Guru
by VixyLovesAkihikoSenpai
Summary: An amazing fanfiction originally on (link p?storyid 3749&start 1) About a girl named Jo who becomes a roadie for Weezer
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

 **THIS IS NOT MY FANFIC. REPETE, THIS IS NOT MINE. THIS IS A VERY OLD FANFIC FROM BY USER Nopinion! I AM MERELY REPOSTING THIS FIC BECAUSE I LIKE IT A LOT AND I FEAR THAT IT IS GOING TO BE DELETED. THANK YOU FOR UNDERSTANDING I JUST LOVE THIS FIC SO DAMN MUCH :3**

By Nopinion

Original A/N: not too much weezer in this first part, but you'll see 'em soon. I don't know if any of these people exist on the Weezer tour, I don't own anyone associated with the super group in question. R/R if you choose, just know that I return the favor.

The phone was her enemy, but soon, in two days, it wouldn't work anyways. So far it had informed her that her mom and dad were splitting, her brother was in an accident, her sister had her baby, her cousin was getting married, and that she had over drawn on her account, making visiting one, let alone all of her family, impossible. She'd been taking a break from school, working two jobs to make the bills. First her waiting job ended due to bankruptcy, she didn't get her last three pay checks. Then her main bread winner, a lowly secretary position in a law firm, ended due to a cheep bastard dying. She'd already applied to twenty different places, all of a different sort of business. Everyone said they'd file her and call when they needed a position filled. There wasn't anything in a realistic walking range beyond those twenty. Everything happened in one week, emotional overload. Today she wasn't going to answer the phone.

She'd been in school, thirty hours a week, working another forty, and averaging 3.5. She'd been majoring in electronic technology, and had a minor in musical education. She planned on becoming a teacher. Directing a band and choir through God awful songs and concerts and competitions. Maybe open a store in a small community and supplying lessons and guitar strings to aspiring musicians. Or maybe she'd wait tables for the rest of her life. For now, she was asleep in her tiny "apartment". It had one large room that made up life necessities, a kitchen and a bedroom, which doubled as a living room when the futon was a couch. There was a small bathroom that rarely got hot water. Roaches were everywhere. It wasn't like her Colorado home that her parents had raised her in.

The phone rang again, this time an hour latter. It rang and rang. She would not give in. She rolled back over and covered her head with the sheets. Yet another hour passed, sleep barely taking hold towards the end, and the phone yet again rang. This time it wasn't giving up. She began counting the rings, slightly after the tenth and made it all the way up to thirty. She relented.

"This better be a job." she barked into the receiver.

"Well, it's an interview." Mike offered.

"What the Hell?"

"Professor Lidel gave a list of people to some people and we have a job interview. They've been trying to call you all morning."

"What kind of job?"

"That's why there's an interview."

"When?" she started to get up. She stretched out her arms.

"Um, Wednesday."

"Wait...if they've been trying to call me, how did you know?"

"They were asking people, when they called the rest of the list, if they knew you. I guess you got a pretty good recommendation from Lidel."

"Oh." she shrugged, "Can you give me a ride?"

"Car in the shop again?"

"Nope, had to sell it."

"Why?"

"I didn't want to sleep in it."

He was quiet, "Oh." he sighed, "You could have asked me."

"No, I'm too much in debt as it is."

"Okay." He mumbled, "But you know that I'm always here."

"Yeah, I'll see you Wednesday, and come early."

"Why?"

"Cause I don't have a phone starting at six that morning." she sighed.

"Okay, I'll relay what I can until then. Bye."

"Bye."

She walked over to the refrigerator, and opened the door. Eggs and a sickly tomato donned the bare shelves. She sighed and split the shell of one of the four eggs and cut a quarter of the tomato. There wasn't any salt, pepper, or anything else to aid the desperate meal. "What I wouldn't give for some toast." She sighed and cooked her meager breakfast.

She managed to make the food last by eating only twice a day. She had nothing by Wednesday morning. "It's alright, I'm too nervous to eat." she lied to her self. She wasn't nervous; she was more indifferent than she could imagine. Either she got the job and all would be good in the world again, or she didn't get the job and she'd have to wait for the call from one of her applications. Or there was still Mike. He did say he could help her out.

She prepared her self for the interview. For once the cold shower was welcoming to her tired, hungry body. She felt more alive when she came out. Mike was in her room waiting for her. "Turn around." She instructed, getting dressed behind him.

"You weren't kidding about the phone."

"Nope."

"I called at 7:50, and got through, although no answer." He glanced at her, "And again at 8 and you were disconnected."

"I wasn't up till 8:30, must have slept right through your call." She shrugged.

He walked to the fridge, "Should I make break..." the fridge was empty, "Do you need breakfast?" He closed the door and eyed her slim figure.

"Too nervous anyways." She diverted her gaze.

"Why can't you just ask?" He half yelled, "I don't even need payment, it's what friends do."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"I just can't. It'd be like failing." she pulled her wet hair up into a bun, he was shaking his head at her, "Shut up. Now do I look alright?"

He looked at her, her clothes hanging off of her. A nice pair of slacks, a button-down shirt, and a slimming mid thigh jacket, "That's a man's shirt."

"I know, how does it look?" She sighed exasperatingly.

"Amazing, you're always amazing." Something in his eyes made her glance swiftly away and try to divert his attention away from her.

"Let's go." she mumbled walking past him.

It was obvious that the office was rented only for the interviews. The secretary desk was bare of personal items, a name tag, and instead of a regular humming computer there was a laptop. The waiting area was comprised of six folding chairs and a coat rack that was permanently hung on the wall. The secretary was calmly reading a book when they approached.

The secretary held up a finger, folded the page and laid her paperback down, on the desk, "Good morning." she smiled at them, "Names please?"

"Mike Wilson, and Joanne Puchelli." Mike said for them both.

"Please spell Puchelli." Joanne complied, "Oh, here you are. Please have a seat. Mr. Wilson, you may go in when the current person leaves, and then you Ms. Pichelli after him.

They took their positions on the wobbly metal chairs and calmly waited. Joanne pulled her well used Rubik's cube and began twisting it into different patters, getting one side and part of another. Mike watched her and pointed out ways she could like some up. Together they twisted the blocks into green with some blue and red and then back into a frustrating mess.

The door opened, and a slightly less formal looking college boy stepped out, shaking his head and sighing as he passed by. Mike looked at Joanne, she smiled in a reassuring fashion. He took a big breath and entered the room, shutting the door behind him. His papers in hand.

Joanne was joined by another man, checking in at the desk and sitting a chair away from her. She continued with her cube, not taking much notice of the man beside her.

"Confusing buggers, aren't they?" and accented voice commented.

"Mmmhimmm." She kept her eyes on the plastic.

"Do you always bring that with you to interviews?"

"I take it everywhere. It's a good time killer."

"So... do you know what this is about?" he scooted into the seat next to her. He smelled slightly of gel and after shave.

"No...what?"

"I don't know either, just wondering if someone had any idea what we're doing here."

"I think it has something to do with electronics."

"Really? What makes you think that?"

"I was recommended by my professor of electronics."

"Hmmm...I was recommended by my uncle, he's a music teacher."

"So, music and electronics. Maybe we'll be roadies." She laughed.

"That would be awesome."

"It won't happen." she assured. "Not in my luck."

"Sorry to hear that. And I really had my hopes up." he slouched back into his seat.

Mike came out, a big grin on his face, "You're next, Ms. Puchelli." He held the door for her.

The inner office was just as bare as the waiting area. Nothing on the walls, nothing but papers on the desk. The man behind it watched her glance around the florescent lit room. "You're not a serial killer, are you?" she asked, standing behind the chair in front of him.

"Why would you ask that?" The man looked offended behind the desk.

"I heard that serial killers don't decorate their rooms." She smiled at him and watched him laugh.

"No..no... just a temporary measure." He chuckled, "Please, sit Ms. Puchelli."

She took her spot. "It's very nice to be here."

"Liar." He chuckled again, "You're just as annoyed with all the secretive stuff as I am." He was dressed, not as she expected, in a polo shirt and jeans, she could see his legs sticking out on her side of the desk, "You come highly recommended."

"Yeah, I guess so. I'm sorry about not answering the phone, it's been a very bad week." She apologized.

"How so?" He asked, writing down something on a sheet of paper.

"Just several stressing factors piled up, " She smiled.

"Well.. Lidel tells us that you are his top student, but you don't have the grades to show it. Why is that?"

"I'm working my way through school, I work too much for some homework assignments, but I do well on tests."

"Yeah, high scores." He looked at the papers, "Lidel says you're very quick on your feet."

"Pardon?"

"That you respond in a manner that insures a fix will promptly be made."

"I wouldn't be a good judge at that, I've watched very few other do their work." she cringed.

"You are also taking classes in music?"

"Yes. Production, performance, teaching techniques."

"Teaching, do you want to teach?"

"Yes, eventually."

"Where are you currently working?"

"I'm unemployed, at the moment." She watched him intently for a reaction.

"Why did you leave?"

"One place went bankrupt, the other my boss died."

"Two jobs?"

"Yeah, a lot of luck." She smiled at him.

"Well, we'll give you a try. How's Monday for a run through?"

"For what?"

"For Weezer's surprise show at the Philmore."

"Weezer?" She smiled, excited, "Roadie for Weezer?"

"If you work out on Monday."

"Thank you so much, Mr.?" She stood up to shake his hand.

"Ross."

"Mr. Ross."

"We'll be in touch."

"Oh, wait, I don't have a phone anymore, can you relay messages through Michael Wilson?"

"Um...sure." he scribbled down this note and put her file back down on the desk."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 **THIS IS NOT MY FANFIC. REPEAT, THIS IS NOT MINE. THIS IS A VERY OLD FANFIC FROM BY USER Nopinion! I AM MERELY REPOSTING THIS FIC BECAUSE I LIKE IT A LOT AND I FEAR THAT IT IS GOING TO BE DELETED. THANK YOU FOR UNDERSTANDING I JUST LOVE THIS FIC SO DAMN MUCH :3**

Orignal a/n: _thanks to this wonderful site!_ Don't know them, don't own them, and I sure as hell haven't ever worked a tour for anyone, so take all technical issues with a grain of salt. And as for the time period, just before Green came out, but the show, I don't think, didn't really exist. That's why this is fiction.  
It's a trip, while I'm writing this I've gotten two reviews, and I thought this was crap. But you people didn't leave your account, so I can't return the favor. Thanks Angelchic3087 and Ricardo Mantalban. ****

 **All this is Mine?**

"Hey, Jo, wake up." Mike prodded her shoulder. It was difficult for him to watch her sleep on his couch, wearing skimpy clothes that made her comfortable during the night, while he was wide awake, wishing he were sleeping half as comfortably as her. He kept telling himself, it's only for the few days that we'll be here. She'd been evicted. "It's Monday morning. The first day of the most brilliant job you can imagine." He tried, poking her again.

"Shit." she groaned, rolling over, "Coffee?"

"On the way." He turned back into his kitchen.

She found her way around her bags and pulled out her clothes for the day. An old pair of jeans and a t-shirt, comfortably baggy yet fitting for her small frame. She glared at her watch, "Are you sure I need to be up?"

"We have to be there by ten. I think an hour would be adequate time."

Still grumbling on the way over, Jo clutched her mug of coffee and started to brighten, "Thanks for breakfast, and coffee, and the ride, and letting me stay with you, and-"

"You're always welcome."

"Are you sure I can keep my stuff there while we're gone?"

"Yeah, my Uncle's holding it for me, no one's going to be rummaging around." He smiled at her, "You can use me as long as you need to."

"Too cheeky for this early." She closed her eyes and dozed against the window.

"BREAK CHECK!" He yelled, simultaneously slamming on the breaks to turn into the back parking lot of the venue.

She jumped from the car, while it was still moving and ran into a group or people by the back door, unloading boxes. "You son of a bitch!" she yelled at the car, parking only meters away.

The group stared at her livid expression and started to laugh, chuckling under their breath.

"And that, everybody, was a drive by Joing!" The man, she recognized as Mr. Ross, laughed. "Joanne Puchelli, this is your crew."

"My crew, or my co-workers?" She raised an eye brow trying to be funny.

"Today, maybe not forever, but today this is your crew. Here's the site plan, and the list of things to do." He handed her the items, "Now make it happen."

"Um...okay." She dropped her smiled and looked at the packet she'd been handed. "Ah... I guess we should work from the top down. Um... yeah." She looked around, "Let's get some light in there." Immediately, the group started to move and shift crates and boxes around the parking lot and into the building. Michael and her grabbed boxes and helped. She directed traffic at the door for a while, until she heard a loud snap.

"Um...Joanne..." A voice cautiously called from the door.

"Yeah?" She looked at him, terrified that her crash course in unloading wasn't going in the right direction.

"The lighting board just...ah...blew up."

"Blew up?" she followed the meek fellow back inside the brightly lit back stage area.

"Yeah." I was plugging in the wires for the blues and it made this fizzing sound, then it sparked and blew up."

"Ah... have you worked a tour before?" she asked him, kneeling next to the machine.

"Yeah."

"Get them moving onto the next thing." She waved him off, "Oh...and get me a tool box!" She called after him. She was looking at where the wires came in and out, water was on the floor.

"Your tool box." An accented man laid the heavy box on the floor, "Good to see you made the cut." He smiled and quickly cleared out to unload more stuff.

Flat head, flat head, flat head. She rifled through the box, searching for a flat head screw driver. "Someone get me a flat head screw driver!" She yelled.

"Here." one was immediately shoved into her hand.

"What seems to be the problem?" Someone asked, kneeling next to where she was quickly removing screw after screw on the light board top.

"Some idiot set the light box in water and it's shorted out." she mumbled, pulling the top off. Immediately she unplugged the machine and started to dry the insides with a towel that was laying near by.

"Is it serious?"

"Only if you want to see." she said calmly to the man beside her, "Someone get me some copper wiring!" she yelled over her shoulder.

"Ah...Joanne?" Another man interrupted, "The soundboard isn't working either."

"Get me some wiring and get Michael Wilson over there." She ordered.

"You give orders like a dominatrix." The man next to her chuckled.

"You're not helping, maybe you should go so I could concentrate on my job here." She said evenly.

"I'll see you around, Joanne." he laughed and walked away briskly.

The re-wiring only took an hour, but the clean up of the water and the drenched parts took three. She made her way over to the soundboard where Mike was leaning with another, older man. "This should work." Mike proclaimed, flipped a switch and pulled his hand back from the resulting shock, "Jesus." he bent over and breathed hard.

She looked over his shoulder, pulled the plug and used her newly acquired pliers to cut a wire, "That should make it work, for now. It's not a connected current, so we'll lose some quality." She noted the busy group moving around her, bringing her the mikes, the bad cables.

A man with a camera was wondering around, following a balding man with thick glasses. He seemed so content in just following the movements of one man. He stopped and talked quickly with Ross, who was moving several guitar cases at the same time. He put a case down and pointed a finger in Joanne's direction. She cringed.

The thin fellow made his way towards her, camera rolling. "I hear you're our guru." he shut off the camera and offered her his hand.

Feeling grimy, she wiped her hand on her pants first then took his hand, "No, not guru, Joanne." She searched his face for a second, thinking he was slightly familiar.

He laughed softly, "I'm Karl." He smiled with all the teeth he'd been given, "And I have a problem."

"Um...well...I'm sure the pills will help make it better. Happens to a lot of guys, trust me."

"Funny, I like that." He laughed, "No... my damn remote control car broke, and I thought that you might take a look some day, that we have off?"

"Ummm...you'll have to remind me latter, cause right now I have a mike that needs rewiring." She smiled at him and showed him the frayed cord, "Does Weezer usually have such shitty luck with equipment?"

"This? This isn't our regular touring stuff. The lights are on loan, the soundboard is on loan, the mikes are from Riv's basement...lets see...what else. I guess the only good stuff is the instruments." he laughed.

"You assholes. You're dirty tricksters." she smiled at him.

"Our technical manager left, so we had to try out a new one." he shrugged, "Safer that way."

She rejoined the group that she was directing, "How's the sound now, Mike?" she asked, he gave her the thumbs up. She eyed the lights, "Who's the light tech?" she demanded. The meek man that found the problem stepped forward. "Run a test." he nodded. Ross approached her. "What do you want?" She glared at him.

"Is the cat already out?" he laughed somewhat, "Umm... the band wants to do sound check by five."

She looked at her watch, and around at her group, "Tell them they can do what ever they want by three." The crew around her were shocked. "Everybody move, just put on the finishing touches, mike up the drums, hook up the pedals, and get your selves something to eat." It was two in the afternoon. "Don't stare, we're basically done by my list." she laughed, "Good work."

"Damn you." Mike laughed.

"What?" She was picking at the fruit tray of the catering.

"I was talking to the boys back there, and they said you were moving at super sonic speed, never have they worked as fast as they did."

"Oh...I'll slow it down for them." she laughed and bit into an apple.

"I don't know, I dare say it was a turn on for them." He nudged her in the ribs. "You know, you are the only girl in this crazy show, that I've seen."

"Shut up, I can deal with a bunch of testosterone."

"I'm sure you can." He laughed.

"Eh, but can we resist the temptation of a little estrogen on the bus?" The accented man once again butted in. This time she looked. He was slim, wearing faded black jeans, a Blur t-shirt, and looked similar to Richard Ashcroft.

"Hello, again." She smiled at him.

"You have such pretty eyes when their directed at someone and not away." He smiled with only half of his face. "Derek Chester." He offered her his hand.

She had to shuffle her plate into her left hand to shake his, "Jo Puchelli." his touch was incredibly gentle compared to Ross's bone crusher. 'Not happening.' she thought, 'Restrain thy self!' she cursed herself in her head. "Nice to finally see you, I apologize for being so... distant." She smiled and continued eating.

She made her way back to the stage area, where a slight man was adjusting a mike stand. He locked his hands behind his back and wondered around the stair, examining the pedals, the mikes, the cords that she stealthily hid along equipment, and taped down in the middle. He looked up at the lights and his shoulders relaxed. He turned to walk off to the back and saw her, leaning against the doorway to the inner workings of the sound station, and watching him inspect her work.

"You're a hard ass." He smiled as he walked by.

"Where's your glasses?"

"Oh you know, all the rage, have to be different now." He winked at her, "I like a perfectionist." he headed back into the dressing areas.

"Damn, rock stars, always in the way." She laughed, sitting down against the wall. 'Why would someone like that want to watch me fix a lighting board?' she asked her self.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 **THIS IS NOT MY FANFIC. REPEAT, THIS IS NOT MINE. THIS IS A VERY OLD FANFIC FROM BY USER Nopinion! I AM MERELY REPOSTING THIS FIC BECAUSE I LIKE IT A LOT AND I FEAR THAT IT IS GOING TO BE DELETED. THANK YOU FOR UNDERSTANDING I JUST LOVE THIS FIC SO DAMN MUCH :3**

Original A/N: Oooh, look I got off my lazy ass and did some research. I fixed stuff, I'm an ass. This is a tour that never happened, with things that never happened occurring while it's in progress. I don't own I only borrow. Thanks for the reviews, I love them. I will take suggestions as well.

 ** _That famous temper, Ka-boom_**

She's going to get arthritis, She moves her fingers too fast." Rivers stepped to the side of his friend and band mate, "Don't you agree." he gazed down on the girl, rewiring a mike.

"Didn't notice," Brian cleared his throat and quickly retreated away from his balcony perch, "Sound check!" he called over his shoulder.

Rivers smiled to himself and leaned over the balcony, "Hey, Guru!" She looked around herself, "Balcony." he hinted, She looked up towards his voice, "It's two forty-five! Fifteen minutes!"

She smiled and screwed in the last part to hold together the casing, "You have fifteen minutes to figure out what to pay me. You son of a bitch."

He made his way down the stairs to the stage, finding Brian in the wing, gazing out at her adjusting the mike onto the stand and counting into it. "Oooh, Brian. She touched your mike." Rivers received a painful jolt to his shoulder, deadening his arm, "Thought so." he rubbed it gingerly as she passed by.

The sound wasn't as full as he'd expected. He called into the backstage area, "Where's the depth in the drums?"

"Soundboard's stunted." someone called back.

"What!" Rivers let his guitar drop to the floor with a feedback buzz and stalked off to the side, "What do you mean stunted?"

"Ah...altered...Joanne did something to make it work."

"Joanne!" He yelled, hot in the face.

"Yeah?" She asked, peeking her head in from outside.

"What the hell did you do to my soundboard?"

"I made it work." she stepped inside.

"Why doesn't it sound right, there's no depth to the drums."

"It only has one mike on the bass, there was a dead circuit."

"Why didn't you fix it!"

"Your lighting board threw our a spark and a bang and a smoke cloud." She was standing, nearly eye to chin with him, "Now do you want all lights or all sound next time. Cause I could only partially fix both."

"Next time, I want you to tell me what the Hell is going on that might be detrimental to the quality of our stage show."

"The only thing that might be detrimental to your stage show is the fact that you gave me faulty equipment to start with."

"Don't get such a big head, we could have put anyone in charge."

"And maybe you should, if you don't like the way I work. Just pay me and I'll leave."

Pat, and the rest, were watching from side stage, "Rivers, shut up." Pat mumbled and returned to his position behind the drums.

"Is that why you're here, the money?"

"Mostly."

"Your trust fund not big enough?" he pushed the expensive college button.

"You arrogant prick!" She gripped her hands into tight fists, "I have nothing, just so that I can work two jobs and go to the school I choose. Right now I don't hav g!" she sneered slowly spelling out her issues. "I could have cared less if this secret job was with fucking Phil Collins, as long as I could make enough to buy back my $50 dollar car so I wouldn't have to sleep in some alleyway and bathe in a drainage ditch." She was slightly calming down, "Don't pull the fucking college card, Mr. Harvard when you don't know how to survive a week on one tomato and half a dozen eggs."

He dropped his eyes half-way through her rant, and his shoulders visibly dropped. He licked his lips, and stood stiffly, facing her. "You win." he mumbled and walked away, back to sound check.

"Can I borrow your attitude some day?" A small woman enthususiastically cheered from out side, "They found me a girl with balls!" She exclaimed to her self. Jo was slightly annoyed with the tone, "I'm Sheeny." The woman offered her hand.

"I think... I'm fired." Jo whispered and walked right past her out to where she'd been sitting.

"The food aspect was a nice touch, or maybe I'm just hungry." Derek laughed, trying to make her feel better.

Her face remained strained, in a position she assumed too frequently. She was listening, thinking, processing an inner monologue, and trying to think of nothing all at the same time. She just couldn't muster the idea of movement to respond; almost like when she argued with her self to both get out of bed and just rest her eyes for five more minutes on the early mornings before class and after a party.

"Hey, kid." Stewart sat next to her on the ground, "Sorry about Rivs, he's a little high strung."

"That's "Rivs" not you." she mumbled, "I suppose I should be out looking for a new waiting job." she started to scramble to her feet.

A strong hand pulled her down, back to where she'd been, "I'm not letting you go anywhere." He smiled, "Rivers doesn't control everything in his little universe. The rest of the band really like how you work, and the crew half hates you. It's perfect."

"Wait, the crew hates me?"

"They're out of shape, and bent some too. The last guy we had was really buddy buddy, didn't get things done too quickly, and wasn't a woman."

"They hate me because I'm a woman?"

"They'll come around, they're just a little intimidated by someone who assumes so much in just a few hours."

"Sink of swim, I need the job more than any of these others."

"Lidel said you were the best he'd seen."

"How'd you know Lidel?"

"Someone's old prof. back at the record company." He smiled, "I hope you enjoy your stay." he put a forty in her palm, "An advance, so you can get things set before we leave Monday. I would give you more, but-"

"Thanks, this is really awesome. I don't know what I can do to repay you."

He merely laughed and handed her a stack of stickers, proclaiming all accress, "Put that on, there's a mob outside, Karl leeked a little information. Don't want you or your crew getting locked out."

She took the sticker and placed it on her right thigh, then proceeded to hand out the rest to her crew, although she knew almost no names. She walked out to the front, where merchandise was still being stacked into the shelves of the venue. She smiled and the boys behind the counter and looked out the tinted windows to the street, where a hord of people were standing, in wait.

She stepped outside the door, mingling with the people. She smiled and talked with them about the concert, "I hear the lighting will be amazing." She cheered, "But the damn PA system shorted out a bit, leaving the bass drum with only one mike." She sighed.

"Are you working for Weezer?" one excited girl asked, pointing to her sticker.

"Sure." Joanne smiled, feeling special.

"What's Rivers like?" The girl demanded.

"He's...ah...he's..." she repressed the want to say asshole, "different." She smuggly admitted.

"Wow, you get to spend time with him. You're so lucky."

"Everyone spends time with everyone, I guess." She shrugged, suddenly feeling strange standing in the midst of the crowd, all asking about their geek God. "Well, you know. Work and all. I have to go." She retreated through the doors.

She watched the show from the sound board, mainly to fix it if it broke. The crowd loved the presentation, and the three guitar weilders played to them in such a way as to drive them nuts. She'd never seen a Weezer concert, but she couldn't deny the talent that surged forward from the lanky rocker.

"Hey, mom."

"Oh, thank God you're all right." Her mother gasped into the receiver, "I called your apartment and it said you were disconnected."

"Yeah, I got evicted."

"Evicted! Didn't you pay rent?"

"Yes mom, but my land lord saw the disconnection of my phone as a sign from God that I was no good." She sighed, "Catholics, geez."

"Is that legal, I don't think it is, you should sue."

"It doesn't matter ma, I don't have the money anyways."

"I thought you were getting a raise at work."

"I lost both my jobs."

"What!"

"Mom, it's okay. I just got a better one, but I have to take a semester off of school."

"I don't know if it's best for your studies."

"It's in the same fields as both my areas."

"I don't think a break is ever good when it comes to learning, what if you never go back to school? Then how will you teach?"

"Ma, I need some more time to pay for school anyways."

"I can't say that I approve of you taking time off."

"Listen, mom. You know that things are tight out here, do you think you could wire me a hundred?"

"What for?"

"Mike and I are going halves on a cell phone, or I could just loose touch with you."

"Why don't you just use Mike's phone, I know that's were you are."

"We're leaving Monday. We're touring with a band as technicians, his phone wont do us any good."

"You're going to be a roadie?"

"Yeah, some practical experience for my degree."

"Fine, give me the info."

Wednesday, Joanne hadn't wanted to get up; Sunday night she couldn't sleep. She wasn't looking forward to spending the next six months on a bus with Rivers Cuomo, ass of the millennium. However, six months going from California across to New York, over to London across to Italy, and over to Japan, and back to California would be extreme for her dismal passport which pledged only two stamps, Canada and Spain.

"Mike." She wined, "Mike, get up."

"What the Hell do you want?" He groaned, looking at his clock, 5:34 AM.

"I can't sleep."

"Have a drink and relax." He groaned, smashing his face into his feather pillow.

"It's too early to be drunk."

"I didn't say get drunk, I said get a drink."

She sighed and crawled in next to him, so her head rested on his pillow, "When's Carl gonna be here?"

"Seven."

"Do you want French toast, or plain eggs?"

"What ever you want."

"I want oranges."

"Than eat oranges." he mumbled, eyes shut.

"We finished them off."

"Then why would you say you wanted them?"

"Just because you don't have them doesn't mean I don't want them."

"Just shut up for the next hour, and try to relax." He tucked his arms under his pillow and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Do you think eating animals is wrong."

"Does it bother you that people eat animals?"

"A little."

"Then yes, now be quiet."

She sighed again and tried to mentally loosen the muscles around her neck. She'd drifted off into a light, tortured sleep for just enough time to dream of Rivers racing after her, belittling her poverty, her family, her work, her aspirations. Then the loud electronic bleep of the alarm announced the time of 6:30 AM, thirty minutes to get ready.

Mike helped her in the kitchen, preparing the last of the eggs and the bread into French toast. He'd given most of his supplies to his friends and didn't have coffee, sugar, syrup, or anything to drink besides water.

"Did you have to give away the coffee?"

"It was before we found out the departure time." he shrugged, "Take a cold shower, after you're done eating." There was a heavy knock on the door, "Or just stay sleepy and wolf that down, cause we've got to go." He rushed to the door, "You're a touch early."

"Just thought you might need some help loading up you bags, or something." Carl, a large boisterous, teddy-bear type guy laughed, "Not that either of you have much."

"French toast?"

"Sure, where's the syrup?"

Sure she was paid more than the other technicians, but Joanne never wanted to be in charge of the mess she had to deal with. Fourteen crates of equipment, fifteen roadies's personal items, six band/personnel items, and her mother, crying about international travel on the cell phone. Everything needed to make it to New York. This was a last minute change in schedule. The band needed to be in New York for three days of shows, MTV VMAs, David Letterman, a proper launch to their tour. Then back to L.A. and the tour as planned.

Brian saw her struggling with a heavy transport cart. She was trying to pull it up a ramp towards the terminal, two people were already helping her. He handed his bag to Sheeny, and trotted off to help. "Where's your crew?" he laughed, giving them the extra strength they needed to make the journey.

"Handling the other loads, of course."

"Where do these go?"

"Onto an air transport, and they'll magically show up at the venue, or so I'm told."

"Magic." He looked into her eyes, and tripping over a bag he could have stepped over, had he been paying attention. Luckily Karl had been walking backwards, filming Brian's struggle with the roadies. They all stopped an laughed, until the kart started to roll backwards.

"Ah...Shit!" the group proclaimed, and even Rivers, blind and bleary, ran to aid the effort.

"Damn wheels." She bent over to recover her breath as soon as the kart was on solid ground.

"Are you okay?" Brian asked, recovering his own breath.

"She's fine." Rivers mumbled, walking towards their departure point.

"Do you need anymore help?" he sneered at Rivers.

"No," She pointed down the ramp, "here come my boys with the rest of it." The group, four per kart was making it's way easily up the ramp to meet them for the shipping.

Joanne was exhausted. She hadn't slept the night before, and wasn't sleeping too well in the air. She looked over at Mike, drool slipping down his chin onto his hooded sweatshirt. 'What bliss that must be, the ability to sleep where ever, when ever, and through what ever.' she wrote in her notebook, which she carried in her backpack. She glanced across the aisle and a row up, at where Karl and Rivers had a vast game of dots going. Brian was sitting next to Rivers and Pat, Reading a book, but she couldn't see the title from were she was.

'Note to self:  
Buy book to read on flights and bus.'

"I have an extra paper back, if you want it." Derek, sitting next to her offered.

"Were you reading what I wrote?"

"Sure." he smiled, "Couldn't help it, really. I'm just as bored as you are."

"Maybe you should investigate that novel." She glanced a the book on his tray-table.

"Not nearly as interesting as watching you."

She sighed, and wrote in her notebook, 'Flattery will get you no where.'

He took her pen and the sheet of paper while she waited with intrest, 'Flattery has gotten me your notebook.' he pushed her book down into his bag.

"Hey." She protested, annoyed.

"Now, lets have a decent conversation." He folded his hands on his table and looked at her.

"Fine, where are you from." She placated.

"No, that's boring." he shrugged her off, "Why did you move to LA?"

"What makes you think I moved here?"

"When you called your mom in the airport you complained of the trunk charges for payphones."

"You eves-drop too?"

"Always trying to know what the boss man...er woman, has to say about me."

"I don't think I can talk to you anymore, not if you already are listening to my phone conversations. Makes this a little obsolete."

"I don't mean to, it's just one of the more interesting things you can do at the airport."

"I'm from Colorado."

"Sure you are, but why did you move?"

"To go to school." she stated as if the fact were obvious.

"No good schools in Colorado?"

"I guess I wanted to be away from my family."

"Are they that bad?"

"No, they're just there." she tried to explain, "Why aren't you home with 'mummy' and you're family?"

"She asks too many questions."

"All parents ask questions."

"She just always wanted too much information, if you get the jest of things. At lease when I'm over here I can say the charges are too damn high for more than a few."

"So where are you from?"

"Manchester."

"What's it really like in England?"

"Just the same as here, accept older, more stuck in it's ways."

She looked up after a bleep and looked at the seatbelt light. "Looks like we're landing soon." she buckled her seatbelt, "Can I please have my notebook back?" he relented and handed her the book.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 **THIS IS NOT MY FANFIC. REPEAT, THIS IS NOT MINE. THIS IS A VERY OLD FANFIC FROM BY USER Nopinion! I AM MERELY REPOSTING THIS FIC BECAUSE I LIKE IT A LOT AND I FEAR THAT IT IS GOING TO BE DELETED. THANK YOU FOR UNDERSTANDING I JUST LOVE THIS FIC SO DAMN MUCH :3**

Original A/n: All offense meant towards Tipper Gore and her legions of blood sucking doped-up house wives. All worshippers of freedom, faithfully following the amendments, and a right of expression are free to pass.

The entourage, tried to make their way through the thick crowds of the New York Airport. Joanne walked between Mike and Derek, letting them push their way through so she wouldn't get lost in the sea of tall people. Rivers followed behind Pat, fingers wrapped around the handle of the back pack, glasses off, and hoody up. He looked like a toddler, desperately trying not to get lost.

A rush of business suits split the group into several parts, leaving Joanne in the middle of a swarming crowd and no one familiar near her. She couldn't see any directing signs, couldn't see Mike, or Derek. She couldn't see anything that looked remotely helpful. Until the small, blind Rivers put out a call.

"Pat!" He yelled, "Damn it Pat!"

She pushed towards the voice and found him, frantically patting himself down in search of his glasses. "Fancy seeing you here." She startled him.

"Um, excuse me?" He squinted.

She spotted a searching Brian standing on a bench, "Damn it Rivers," She grabbed his arm and lead him briskly through the crowd of people, "Just wear your contacts."

"They hurt." He shrugged, latching onto her sleeve while she gripped onto Brian. The large group was met by two suburbans, supplied by MTV, with a paper sign that stated, "The Weez." taped onto the side. She was ushered into the vehicle with the band, by Sheeny and Brian, they had to split the group up some where.

"Where are we going?" Mikey asked.

"Hotel, than MTV." The driver stated, "Just to drop off bags, no real time.

"Shit!" Rivers screeched, "My glasses are gone."

"Do you have your contacts?"

"I can't go on MTV, I have to have my glasses!" He frantically searched through his bag and again through his pockets.

"Could they be on the plane?" Karl asked.

"No, I put them in my pocket right when we got to baggage claim."

Sheeny was already on her phone with MTV. "Hi, this is Sheeny River's assistant. What time do you need Weezer?" she listened intently to the line, "Can they go any latter?" she was shaking her head, "Rivers is... experiencing some... ah... technical difficulties, we need to see an eye doctor really quick." More listening, "No, he just needs... Okay. Thanks."

Rivers was still searching for his glasses, but was now silent and listening.

"Either we find a one hour glasses place, or you go on in contacts."

"I don't have them."

"Yeah, we'll get you a new pair."

"I mean the contacts, I don't have them." he searched the fuzzy globs for a face to stare at.

"What?" Pat exclaimed.

"They were hurting, so I took them out and spaced packing them." he defended.

"Dude, I guess you're going on blind." Mikey slapped his shoulder playfully, the slightly misdirected glare of death resulting.

Sheeny was making yet another phone call. Rivers slumped down into his chair and folded his hands in his lap. He was visibly shaken by the loss of his glasses.

"Want some gum?" Joanne asked, sitting between Brian and him. Brian was leaning against the window, his left knee behind her back, in a cramped fashion, she noted. He was almost possessive of her, watching her fiddle with the pack of gum.

"Sure." He meekly accepted. She handed out the rest of her pack to the people inside and kept an eye on him, waiting for the blow up of nerves he was suppressing. "Hey Rivs scoot down a little," She nudged, "Brian's pasted to the window." They made the necessary room for the long legged creature.

"Rivs, I got an appointment for five thirty tonight, to get some new ones made before the VMA practices tomorrow." He nodded in response.

The tall hotel loomed in front of Joanne. She was sure that she'd never seen anything quite like it. Everything was so tall around it and there it was, matching all it's surroundings. None of the buildings in Los Angeles, let a lone Denver could compare to the blocks of tall buildings that owned New York City.

They unloaded their baggage from the ample space of the large vehicles and each person grabbed their own things. Karl had the most. He had camera bags, computer stuff, a suitcase, and a backpack. Joanne took his camera case for him, and thought he pulled on her sleeve. But the tug didn't relent, it was Rivers stumbling up the stairs behind her quick pace.

"Step, step, step, two more," She aided his way by slowing down a little.

Sheeny was at the front desk, getting the keys together, "Um pair off, I call Joanne!" She handed people their keys. "Some one gets their own room." She winked at Rivers, although he didn't notice, "Oh, yeah. Sorry." She grabbed his hand and pushed a key into it.

"Damn blob." He stated then smiled, "Well, where am I?" He asked, moving his card to the end of his reach and back to only inches away from his eyes. Joanne took it from his hands and lead him to the elevator.

"Seventh floor, room thirteen." She helped him get to his room and slid his card for him, "Will you be okay, or should I send someone to come help you?"

"I'm just dropping off my stuff, right?" he shut the door after putting his suitcase inside the door, "I'll just follow you, if you don't mind going back down to the lobby." He sheepishly replied.

"Well then follow, if you can." She teased, and marched off to her room with Rivers in tow. Her roommate had already been and gone. "Jesus she's like lightning."

"You should see her when she's awake." Rivers laughed. Down in the lobby, Sheeny and Karl were collecting the band together to go on the journey over to MTV studios. The crew had the night off, or they could venture over to the Radio City Music Hall and check out where they would spend tomorrow. "Keep my card, will ya. I'm always losing things, and Sheeny teases me too bad." He almost whispered in the elevator, giving her his key.

"Secret's safe with me." She was shocked at his continued good natured attitude. He was acting like the first time they'd _met_ ; when he was looking over her shoulder at the board.

"Here ya go," She put his hand on Sheeny's arm, "He's all yours." Sheeny smiled, suppressing a groan.

"Aren't you going to come along?" Sheeny asked, "There's an extra seat, you'd get to go down to MTV, see the shit."

"Sure sounds great, I've never been here before." She smiled and was offered a hand into the waiting suburban by Brian. He pulled her into the seat next to him. "Thanks for being tall, otherwise I don't think I could have gotten Rivers back to the group." she smiled.

He leaned in close to her, so his mouth was next to her ear, "I wasn't worried about Rivers, he's a big boy." He laughed quietly. She cocked an eyebrow at him, "Rivs knows this place pretty well, he'd make it out to the hotel."

"What's that?" Rivers responded to hearing his name.

"Just commending your navigational skills in New York."

"Yeah, I'd be driving if I weren't blind." the whole group started to laugh, "What? I'm a good driver." he crossed his arms and searched the blobs for a sign of friendliness, "That's not funny, I don't even know where to punch."

"Not like it would hurt all that much." Mikey smirked.

"Sheeny, hit him." Rivers demanded, "You're my right hand, remember."

"The hand can't do much when the arm's so week." The laughter, at Rivers' expense was still rolling.

'He's not as bad as I thought.' Joanne thought trying to catch her breath, but she was still waiting for the explosion.

"I'm done talking to you all." He slumped in his seat and pouted without any sort of change in his voice.

"Did you see that, that was Kurt Loder!" Mikey, also new to the MTV scene exclaimed, "Hi Kurt!" He waved into the office, receiving a shocked look from the experience news man.

"Shut up, Mikey." Pat reprimanded, "Don't be embarrassing."

Rivers switched his grip from Sheeny to Pat, not wanting people to get the wrong impression about him and his assistant. He could hear all the technicians clarifying what was to happen when the commercial ended, 'TRL count down continues, telephone interview with a Backstreet Boy, more commercials, Weezer.' the interview was already in process, or so the loud voice going over the PA assured.

"That was Aaron Carter, thanks to him for being with us." Carson Daily commented into the camera, "Weezer has just arrived." He announced to many applauds and screams, "But first we continue our countdown with the number 6 video, Brittany Spears." The crowd clapped with few cheers and the video rolled.

"Weezer!" Someone called, "Time to mike up." She handed a microphone to each of them. Rivers relied on his touch to properly hook the mike to his pants and collar. Several women patted them down with quick make up so they wouldn't shine on TV. "You better go get you pictures in the booth, it's tradition."

She ushered them over to the booth and put in a few coins. After four shots, crammed into the tiny box, and with Karl video taping the whole thing. "It's like a VW bug challenge." He commented. They piled out onto the side stage.

"Watch the wires." The girl warned, clipboard in hand. "Name spell check." She made sure everyone was correctly spelled. "You're on."

"Boys and Girls, the time has come," Carson began, "to pay homage to your geek gods." Joanne watch Rivers close his eyes, breathed a few deep breaths, and tighten his hold on Pats t-shirt sleeve. "Weezer." Carson clapped for them as the came on.

Rivers almost made it through the labyrinth of wires. He lifted his feet extra high, but Pat suddenly lurched forward and he almost fell on stage, on live TV.

"Watch yourself," Carson grabbed his elbow and pulled him up, "Wouldn't want you getting hurt, we don't have insurance."

"I must be blind." Rivers shrugged and shuffled over to stand next to his laughing band mates.

"Yeah, tell us about that. We got a call saying you needed to get to an eye doctor?"

"Oh yeah. If anyone finds a pare of thick-rimmed glasses at the Airport, please send them to Weezer." Rivers plugged.

"So you lost your glasses?"

"Yeah, I'm blind."

"Don't you have contacts, or something?"

"He didn't bring them." Brian laughed, "They hurt." he mocked.

"Shut up."

"I thought you weren't talking to me."

Rivers shut his mouth, crossed his arms, and looked away from Brian's general direction.

"He's not talking to you?" Carson smiled.

"Not according to him, during the ride over. He's too sensitive for jokes." Mikey laughed.

"Awe... well, Rivers I won't make fun of you." Carson smiled, "Tell us about this song, that's at number 5 this week, "Hash Pipe"." the video started to play on the screen behind them.

"It's just weird that our song is on TRL. We're not really suppose to go between Brittany Spears and Blink 182 and the Backstreet Boys."

"You didn't, you passed them."

"Jesus."

"So tell us about it."

"There's not really much I can say. It's fairly explanatory." He coughed slightly, making the crowd laugh a little.

"I hate how they censor on this show." Mikey commented, looking at the screen.

"Not the show, or the station. It's all Tipper." Carson corrected.

"Yeah, Tipper." The band agreed.

"I don't know, I guess if I had kids I wouldn't want them learning about h***pipes at six." Pat shrugged.

"Six year olds shouldn't be watching MTV without parental guidance." Carson nodded. "Well, you're performing at the MTV VMA's that are in three days, correct?"

"I thought they were in two." Mikey asked.

"Well, there's a day between when they air and what goes on."

"Really, I didn't know that." Mikey was still fielding questions.

Rivers was staring at the floor, as was his usual at interviews, but he seemed even more intent on not looking up, even when he was being spoken to. "So Rivers there's an amazingly busy tour coming up, with a few week long breaks thrown in, why the breaks? Don't most people blow right through?"

"Well, I've been writing a lot, and the couple weeks off is just so we can chill, recuperate, give our crew a break, and record demos. As well as the press, media stuff." He stared at the floor.

"What do you feel about the interviews and stuff, does it get boring, or is it still interesting and exciting."

"Well," Pat answered, "there are times when we hate it, and there are times when it's a good break. And sometimes we get new questions."

Rivers didn't answer anything for the rest of the interview. He merely nodded along with his band mates' comments. He held out his hand to be shook and signed a few autographs with apologies for being so sloppy, in exchange for some good luck wishes in the return of his glasses. He lifted his legs up high, to get over the wires and started through the backstage area to head back to the hotel.

"Thanks," He mumbled, after he'd climbed up the stairs by Joanne's side to the hotel doors. He grabbed Sheeny's arm and quickly was in the elevator up to his room. Joanne had been waiting for that vibe. The feeling that one false step, letting him miss a step for instants, would send him screaming into a temper flare that was hard to bring him down. He was frustrated, granted, at the fact that he couldn't see; but how much of that should come out was the part he had trouble with. From her vague time with the band she'd noticed he was an all or nothing type of person, not easily constraining his emotions.

She heard screams from a fogged up glass enclosure, surely the pool. She opened the door to see Derek, Mike, the thin boy, and a few young women splashing in the pool, and Brian and Pat sitting in the hot tub. "Oh, guys, you couldn't wait for me?" she smiled.

"We didn't know where you went to." Mike smiled, wading over to the side closest to her, "Get your suit and jump on in!" He splashed her feet. She looked around the room, seeing Brian peering from the corner of his eyes. He sat up a little, letting her see his thin, but muscled physic.

"Maybe, I'm kind of hungry." She sighed, admitting to the groaning of her stomach, "Do you want pizza tonight?"

"Get Chinese!" Derek swam over.

"What do you want?" She asked them.

In the spookiest sort of way they both answered, "Chicken Chow Mein."

"And you?" She pointed at the younger man, he asked for beef chow mein, "And you two, anything?" She asked the soaking rock stars.

"Um...Steamed veggies on steamed rice?" Brian asked.

Pat chewed on the inside of his cheek for a second then decided, "moo goo gui-pan, or chicken chow mein, if they don't have it."

"Sure thing, boss." she took one more look at Brian, his eyes glued to her, the attention was flattering.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 **THIS IS NOT MY FANFIC. REPEAT, THIS IS NOT MINE. THIS IS A VERY OLD FANFIC FROM BY USER Nopinion! I AM MERELY REPOSTING THIS FIC BECAUSE I LIKE IT A LOT AND I FEAR THAT IT IS GOING TO BE DELETED. THANK YOU FOR UNDERSTANDING I JUST LOVE THIS FIC SO DAMN MUCH :3**

A/N: Everyone does understand how fiction this is? Complete and utter fiction, accept for the part about reading the boards; which I did and I normally don't and I laughed for hours at all the bickering and relations going on. Yeah, so the last one was long and this one is short, because my time is limited. And my new bete, needs to write me back so that we can fix this. So this is unedited, like all the others. :( I hope the next one will be edited before it gets out.

People were sitting anywhere they could. Everyone was packed into the room Mike and Derek shared. All of them were waiting to order their part of the pounds of food that would come out of the elevator and into the room. The abbreviated road crew, not everyone was present for the VMA performance, Pat, Mikey, and Brian were creating a vocal hum that went through the walls, or so some stragglers claimed. And Joanne was taking orders in her spiral notebook, making sure that she had everyone.

"Are you ordering yet?" Pat asked excitedly as Joanne picked up the phone. She shook her head and dialed four numbers instead. She waited and waited and then hung up. "Well?" Pat whined.

"I'm going to go get the orders from Rivs and Sheeny." She smiled and left the groaning room. She stopped at Sheeny's and hers first, since Rivers hadn't picked up his phone, no answer. She checked her watch, only 3:30, surly he wasn't going to the doctors already. She walked to his room and tapped on the door.

"Whom is calling?" A voice was muffled by the door.

"Joanne, I'm ordering Chinese, do you want anything?" She heard the deadbolt click and the door was pulled open. Rivers was looking down at the floor, not at her and stepped aside for her to enter.

"Good afternoon." Sheeny greeted, seated in front of a laptop.

"You didn't answer your phone, so I wanted to make sure everything was kosher." she explained shyly.

"You said something about food?" Rivers asked, sitting in the chair next to Sheeny and rubbing his hands on the thighs of his pants.

"Yeah, Chinese, it's going to be a huge order, everyone's getting something. Do you have anything generic I can order for you?"

"Um...I can never finish it, would you split some veggie chow mien with me?" he asked Sheeny. Joanne saw Sheeny's face go red and shy away from his awkward glance.

"Yeah, that would be great." She smiled and started to type something, very quickly into the computer.

"Okay," Joanne wrote their names down and their choice, "I don't know if it'll be here before you leave, but it will be by the time you get back."

"Fantastic." Rivers smiled at the floor.

"Do you want to join the party? Everyone's down the hall in Mike's room, if you haven't heard." She could hear their murmur through the three rooms between them.

"Maybe later," Rivers sighed and rubbed his eyes, "I'm getting a headache without my glasses."

"Okay then," Joanne left the room and retreated back to Mike's hang out. The group applauded her entrance and sat, hushing each other, around her as she put in the twenty or so orders that everyone had requested. "I'm not paying for this, so everyone pool in." She stated, holding up an ice bucket, "Tip needs to be huge." She urged as everyone put in between five and ten dollars. She put in twenty herself, planning on getting something back from Sheeny and Rivers.

The crowd was waiting, impatiently, and killing time for nearly an hour when the food arrived. Three delivery people had marched up with the rice, noodles, veggies, chicken dishes, and fortune cookies. Joanne took charge of passing everything out. She had everything passed out, when Sheeny knocked on the open door, "You're just in time, food's here." Joanne handed two cardboard boxes and forks to Sheeny.

"Maybe we'll eat on the way, but we're going to the eye doctor." She had a grip on Rivers' jacket, like he was a small boy trying to run away. "Here," She shoved the food into his hand, "carry this while I make sure you don't hurt you self." The crowd laughed as she waved and departed, while Rivers blushed.

"They're not fooling anyone." Derek laughed.

Pat glanced quizzically at him, "What? You think they're... you know?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Derek asked, Matt and a section of the crew agreed.

"New...you just don't know Rivers way." Brian chuckled, "Although he is ever changing."

"And Sheeny's a professional, she's his assistant." Mikey aided.

"But they're both smart, intelligent people; maybe they can draw the line between business and pleasure." Joanne smiled, and passed out more forks. The conversation continued, for a while but then was laid back on the burner in lew of what sport sucked the most.

The heated exchange between baseball haters and football haters eventually lead into how stupid indoor volleyball is and why soccer was supreme. That metamorphic into a challenge, six on six personnel verses crew, time to be announced.

"Will Rivers go for that?"

"He's the soccer king." Pat defined.

"You're just lucky his legs been stiff, or he'd kick your ass for proposing he wouldn't jump on the opportunity." Mikey laughed.

"Who said anything about my leg buggin me?" Rivers was standing at the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, his new replicas on the bridge of his nose. He was slightly concerned about the process of the conversation.

"Looking sharp." Brian smiled, "Feel better?"

Rivers nodded, "Now what's this about my leg?" he insisted rather harshly.

"We've set a challenge of the football, er...soccer sort." Derek smiled, "Personnel verses crew. Maybe they're making excuses for you."

"We're out numbered." he said dryly.

"Six on six, one alternate, we'll choose our team and hold to it." Mike assured

Rivers considered it, "When?"

"Well, management has to find us a day off to properly play." Pat winked at him.

"Hmmm...early morning in Denver?" Rivers thought through his mental calendar, "I'll have to look up the specifics, but we have a week off after Denver."

"Really?" Joanne looked up, "I didn't know the dates were set."

Rivers smiled as he left the room, down the hall with Sheeny.

"They are so doing it." Mike received several pillows to the face.

Joanne was reading in her room, it wasn't even seven yet and most of the crew had retired to the pool and hot tub, grossly exceeding the capacity of both. She'd eaten after everyone else, seeing as she'd given her order last it was on the bottom of the box, so her waiting period was almost fifteen minutes behind everyone. She'd never really bought into the thirty minute shpeal anyways, and thought an hour was safer. So in the mean time she was sitting in the hard "plush" chair and reading poems by e.e. Cummings in the light that was coming through the window.

Sheeny came in, smiling. She started to lay her clothes methodically out on the bed searching for something on the bottom. She was whistling a tune that was only vaguely familiar to Joanne.

"What makes you so happy?"

"Nothing, I just am." sheeny smiled at her with a sassy look in her eye.

"You are sleeping together, aren't you?" Joanne smiled and watched Sheeny blush while pulling out her swim suit, "My God, they're right."

"What?" Sheeny looked seriously at her, all happiness gone.

"Derek and Mike, my friends, and absolutly positive that you and Rivers are screwing around."

Sheeny bit her lip. "Well...um...not really. But you can't tell them."

"Okay." Joanne was puzzled, "Why can't anyone know if you're not really doing him?"

"In case I leave, I can't have someone hiring me just because people think I've slept my way to the top. And people will think I'm just here cause he's a rock star and that I'm some whore, and ...and... they'll never believe that all we do is cuddle and... and.." SHE was almost crying, "It won't go that far."

"Okay, calm down. Your secret's safe with me." Sheeny was packing her clothes back up, quicker than when she unpacked them, Joanne kept looking at her.

"What?" Sheeny looked at the ground, and continued with her task.

"How do you keep so professional?"

"It's my job. To be his right hand." She mumbled, "I've got the inside track on him, I just know him."

"But when do you draw the line?"

"Usually by when the computers are on." She sat on the bed and looked across to Joanne, "When he's working or I'm working we're professional, in person, but when we're just screwing around we IM each other."

"You instant message when your in the same room?"

"Yeah, it's like our minds are always into being friends. So we IM like we're miles apart, but we never really get physically close."

"Wild."

"I know it's confusing, but it works some." she headed to the bathroom to change, "Are you going to come swim? Brian called a few minutes ago, said our phone was off the hook?"

"Brian...yeah, I was reading, just wanted some peace." She put the bookmark into the pages and stood up, "I'll change after you."

In the pool, with all the other kids, splashing chlorine on everyone, and diving after tossed, weighted objects brought everyone back to the days preceding high school. Joanne was sitting in the hot tub, surrounded by several members of the crew, Pat, and Brian (who'd, once again, found a spot at her side). She casually ignored the tinted conversations and stretched her arms along the back of the tub. The gawking of the audience was ever present, as she and Sheeny were now the only two women near the pool enclosure, and both wearing string two pieces.

Rivers floated to the glass door way and stood for a while waiting for the splashing to stop. He intently glared through the steamed glass, his head snapping back and forth between fighting people. Joanne excused herself from the lude conversation and wrapped a towel around her shoulders. SHe approached him, unnoticed, until she had the door open.

"What's the matter, to high to come join the grunts?" She smiled.

"Oh, I...um" He looked at her, glancing unconsiously up and down, "I just needed to ask if... ah... did... do you...ah."

"Shut up or say it." She raised and eyebrow, folding the towel around her waist.

He closed his eyes and stated really quickly, "Can you rewire a guitar?"

She laughed, "Is that what you wanted to know?"

"Um yeah."

"Yes, Rivers, I can rewire a guitar." She adjusted her towel and motioned for them to go, "Let's do this." she pushed past him.

"You don't have to...um...not now." He followed, mumbling.

"I'm tired of the conversations in there." She shrugged, "I'm not much for communal batheing."

"Me neither." he stepped into the elevator, trying to keep his eyes down and not checker her out in the reflection.

"I've never worked on a Gibson before." She smiled, waiting for him to key into his room.

"I want you to make my Fender sound like my Gibson." He mumbled, finally getting the green light.

"Eh?"

"I love how my Gibsons sound, they're perfect; but my Fenders look so cool." he snapped the cases open, "So... here's a Gibson, and here's a Fender." He showed her his stuff. "Do you want to, uh...change?" He asked, deverting his eyes once agian.

"I'm comfortable, do you want me to change?"

"What ever works for you." his voice squeaked a little during his mumbling. He sat infront of his computer screen and focused his gaze on the message boards.

"So, what are you and Sheeny up to tonight." Silence, some shifting in his seat, "Rivers?"

"Um...you know...web and promotion." his voice fully cracked in the middle.

"That's the second time you're voice has done that, do you want some tea?" She held in her laugh.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 **THIS IS NOT MY FANFIC. REPEAT, THIS IS NOT MINE. THIS IS A VERY OLD FANFIC FROM BY USER Nopinion! I AM MERELY REPOSTING THIS FIC BECAUSE I LIKE IT A LOT AND I FEAR THAT IT IS GOING TO BE DELETED. THANK YOU FOR UNDERSTANDING I JUST LOVE THIS FIC SO DAMN MUCH :3**

"So..." Rivers watched her put his Gibson back into the case and latch it, she did the same with the Fender.

"I'll give it a shot, but I can't make any promises. I hope you didn't want this for tomorrow." She took a case in each hand.

"Here," He grabbed the fender case, "Um, no...just when ever. They're spares." He opened the door for her and him and followed her down the hall.

"Well...okay, I'll work on it when I have a chance, maybe in Denver."

"Are you staying in Denver, or are you going on to Saint Louis?" He asked, trotting to keep up with her long steps.

"Of course."

He eagerly trotted to her side, "DO you know of a place that's really quiet, a place where I can kind of...collect...um...transcri...um..write." He fumbled around with his choice of words.

"Um...yeah...I guess." she looked at him oddly, considering the options she knew, "What are you looking for?" She opened her room.

"Well...not in the city." He shook his head sharply back and forth, "Maybe...well...maybe close but not in the city?"

"That's like half of Colorado." She laughed, laying his cases on the bed.

"Well...you know...just a place where no one will know me, and no one will bother me, but I can still do stuff."

"My hometown has a few places, it's about an hour from anything entertaining, and the internet's slow." she offered, "But it's really quiet and you can get everything you need through my dad, probably."

"Hmmm...okay, sounds good." he shrugged, "Just for the week."

"Yeah, sure." she was standing across from him, looking into his eyes, feeling very comfortable, and in a skimpy swimsuit. "I'm going to change, and ah... read some more."

"Oh...yeah...um right." He blushed and quickly turned to the door, "I'll see you around." He trotted out stiffly.

She'd never seen so many famous people all in one place. U2 was listening to Nsync's sound check. Brittany Spears was bitching about some outfit making her "look" fat. Blink 182 was zipping around on skate boards while the MTV news team did a behind the scenes update. Jimmy Falon trotted back and forth from the writers to the producers, and Puffy was calmly polishing his shoes in the wing of the stage. Weezer's equipment was stacked in a corner, upside down despite the labels.

"Here you go." a member of MTV personnel led Joanne and her small crew to the pile.

"Um...thanks." She spat, looking in disgust at the boxes she'd personally labeled, 'This side up.' She pulled out the boxes and read the content labels and immediately Derek and Mike started setting up the bare-minimum provisions for the Weezer show. "Every four feet, put a tab with the =W= on it." She instructed, throwing tape at them, "So everyone knows who owns the cables." The mess was almost untangled when Mariah Carey stomped through the door at Joanne's right.

"Move it," Mariah ordered, stopping in front of Joanne.

"Walk around." Joanne mumbled and continued working.

"Walk around? Walk _around_?" She was getting hot in the face.

"Yeah, like that guy." She pointed at a man with headphones passing by the Weezer mess through a five foot pathway.

"I need to get there." She pointed across the seats to the sound booth.

"Are you going to push the seats out of your way too, or just step across them?" Joanne laughed, as Mariah huffed and stomped back out the door. She shook her head and continued to label and unpack the wires needed to hook up the band.

"Labels?" A quiet figure looked over her shoulder.

"Don't want to loose your cables do you?" She asked, laying the ends at the foot of the sound board that everyone was using.

"They're kind of...um...I guess not." He followed her back to the beginning, where all the amps and guitars were, "How long to sound check?"

"When ever they," She pointed to the sound room, "are done screwing around and tell you to."

"Hmmm...okay." he retreated back into the green rooms.

"Hmmm...you must be with Weezer." A young man with a clipboard came by.

"Yeah."

"Are you the only female with Weezer?"

"On the crew, why?" She stood to face her interrogator.

"There's going to be a man coming by, really angry, make sure he knows that your not the only one."

"What's that?"

"Seems that Mariah didn't like the attitude that Weezer's female technician gave her, she cancelled."

"Jesus. Okay."

"Just he heads up, I hate her." He smiled and walked away.

Just as the younger man had informed, an angry ogre of a man stalked around the side stages, demanding the Weezer crew. He was fat, red faced, and bald. He stalked over to the pile of newly organized equipment and pointed a finger at Joanne. She looked at him scared and tried her best innocent face. "You should watch how you address people of importance!" He waved his finger at her.

"Hey, hey...what's this all about?" Pat approached the quarrel.

The man turned and faced Pat with a vicious sneer, "None of your business." He growled and turned back to Joanne, "I want you out of here in five minutes."

"Hey..." Pat started.

"She leaves we leave." Rivers looked at the situation slightly confused.

"Oh...well...um...I can't have this kind of incompetents around my stage."

"Incompetent, surely you're joking." Pat laughed.

"All I know is Mariah Carey cancelled because of your female technician."

"Well, this isn't our female technician, this is our production manager." Rivers smiled, "There must be some mistake."

"I want her gone."

"I want her here." Rivers mocked his tone.

"I can't allow it."

"Pack it up, we're going home." Rivers called out to the crew. The group looked at Joanne who nodded them to continue.

"Wait!" The puffy man screeched, "You can't leave, not when Mariah's already gone."

"You know the deal, we work with our people for your people, we don't work without our main person." Rivers crossed his arms, "Pack it up." He smiled at the man.

"Fine, she can stay, but no more talking to the important people."

"Like Mariah was important." Pat giggled, "Like hearing a stuck pig."

The producer glared at him. Huffed out an exasperated breath and stalked away.

"Um...thanks." Joanne smiled quickly.

"Did you tell off Mariah Carey?" Pat asked.

"I just told her I wasn't going to move when there was a walkway right there." She motioned at the path.

"Just tell everyone you told her to go fuck her self." Rivers smiled, "Keeps the difficult reputation."

She blushed slightly and continued to shuffle around with the equipment. Brian joined them and watched her work along with Rivers and Pat. As people do, a gathering started around her. People walking by would stop and look at her, some would move on and some would ask what they were all looking at.

"Clear out." Brian would wave them off, "Nothing to see." But the main members of the band and crew stood around her and watched her work until she proclaimed the job finished.

Sheeny was off in the sound booth trying to find out when in the newly shifted schedule Weezer could do their sound check. "But Nsync was one when we got here."

"Then you should have been on after them."

"That wasn't on the schedule." Sheeny smacked her clipboard. Karl, always behind the scenes was filming it all.

"Right here." They pointed to their copies.

"That's not the same one I have." Sheeny showed them her sheet, "Now get me some damn stage time." She made fluent movements with her hands to show her displeasure with the system.

"Fine, if you're quick you can go on after Mariah."

"I thought Mariah was gone."

"What?" They yelled at her.

"Where's your communication around here? I'm going to find us a spot between two musicians that know what they're doing." She tore the schedule off of her clipboard and threw the semi-crumpled paper at them.

"Sheeny Bang everybody, Sheeny Bang." Karl told the camera, focusing on her stalking off down to the band area.

"So...when do we play?" Mikey asked, coming from backstage, lipstick smeared slightly across his lips and neck.

Brian looked him from head to foot then back, "Looks like you've been playing already."

Mikey looked at Pat to question the query. Pat tapped his lips and smiled, "Oh...that...well...you know...interns." He shrugged. Brian pushed him lightly, catching him off balance.

Sheeny passed by them and into the back stage area. She went from person to person, begging for a sound check before five. She managed to find Dave Grohl and the rest of the Foo Fighters lounging around, "Dave!" She yelled, "Dave, can you do Weezer a favor?"

"Depends."

"We've been here for four hours, they've bumped us three times, tried to throw out our production manager, and they blame us for Mariah Carey's attitude problems, can we go in front of you for sound check?"

"What's your sound check?"

"If everything's okay, then it's one song plus up and down time."

"And if it's not?"

"Um...no more than thirty minutes."

He considered it, "Who are you?"

"Sheeny Bang, I'm with Weezer."

"The whole band?" The group laughed.

"Come on, we'd do it for you if we were the rock Gods." She begged.

"Only because you called us Gods." He smiled, "We go on at five thirty."

"We'll be off by six, at the devastatingly latest." she assured and trotted back to her crew which was now filling the time with a hacky-sack circle. "Five thirty."

"Nothing sooner?"

"You better go kiss Dave Grohl's ass, I did a lot of begging for this spot." she defended the slot.

"I'll kiss his ass." Joanne smiled, mumbling to herself.

"Ten bucks." Rivers stated.

She looked at him, the mischief in her eye, "Don't be cheap, thirty."

"Twenty."

"Deal."

"Karl, get this on film." Mikey urged, while the followed her at a distance.

Karl hurried up to get a good spot, surprising Grohl with his proximity to him. "I'm here to kiss the ass of a rock star." She smiled, holding back most of the red in her cheeks.

"Um...eh?"

"Just stand up, and let me kiss you ass." He looked at his band mates, and stood up. Karl scrambled around to get the best shot. Joanne knelt down and grabbed his jeans with one hand. She planted a kiss on his left pocket. She stood up, the group all laughing and cheering with their entertainment.

Sound check was behind them, the system was go, the Foo Fighters were shifting their gear into place and Weezer was outside catching taxis to the hotel. "So." Rivers began, a smile on his face, "What's the story with Mariah Carey and Weezer?"

"I told her to go fuck her self." Joanne smiled back.

"Good girl." He lightly smacked her arm, in what she now realized was an affectionate motion for him.

She stepped into the cab, followed by Rivers and Brian (the last members waiting on the curb), holding back his distaste for his separation from her. The directions were given to the driver and they were off. "Oh, the guitars." She startled the dozing Brian awake, "Um, ones maple the other's something lighter, they'll never sound the same."

"Damn," Rivers looked at the picture id of the driver that was in front of him, "I suppose...can you...hmmm...what about? No...well...okay."

Joanne was laughing slightly, "Think then speak." She suggested, he shrugged. He pulled his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. "How are your glasses?"

"They're a different prescription and made crappily, but they'll do till I can get back to my usual doctor."

"Headache?" Brian asked, looking out the window.

"Small one, nothing some caffeine wont fix."

"Do you want to stop?"

"No, no that's okay." he waved her off, "Room service will take care of me."

They were suddenly enveloped by a mechanical hum and traffic around them. Rivers felt stiff at her side, although he was still slouching over supporting himself on his knees. He was incredibly stressed, thinking about something, and most likely everything he'd seen and done during the day. Brian watched her out of the corner of his eye before he relented and leaned his head against the window, closed his eyes, and dozed slightly. Joanne was tired, but kept her eyes on the window, occasionally glancing at the other occupants. The day was almost done.

They spilled out at the hotel and wondered into the lobby, "Are you okay Rivers?" Brian asked, as he walked crookedly past the couch, bumping into it.

"Yeah, natural grace."

"Do you need some help." He asked, and Rivers bumped into a chair that would have been easy to miss.

"No, I can make it."

"Have you been drinking?"

"No." He was growing angrier. Joanne watched, a few steps behind Brian, who protectively followed Rivers. His face went pale in the elevator and sweat was visible on his forehead, he leaned on the bar that wrapped around the box and gripped it tightly when it shifted down to floor level.

"You don't look good." Joanne stated, watching him glare at the doors which opened slightly late compared to other elevators.

"I've just got a headache." He started to zigzag quickly through the hallway down to his room, trying to keep one hand on the wall for directional support.

"Call if you need anything." Brian shouted at his disoriented friend, "I think he's sick." Brian mused as Rivers rushed into his room down the hall from them.

"That's weird, he was all feisty earlier." She started towards her room, yawning.

"Maybe it was something he ate." Brian suggested, walking at her side, "Want to play some play station?"

"What game?"

"Mortal Kombat like 15." He smiled and laughed.

"Sure." She shrugged, "I'm really bad though, so you only get to use one hand." He smiled and lead the way down the hall. They could hear Rivers puking as they made their way to Brian's play station for a mortal kombat duel.

"Doesn't sound good." Joanne commented, heading in to where Pat and Mikey were already busy with controllers, "Good evening." She greeted, they waved, neither of them smiling. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." Pat groaned, his face slightly sticky with sweat, "Just a heated battle..." he was trying his hardest to play but bolted into the bathroom, where he lost his lunch in a different battle.

Mikey took a deep breath, and shut his eyes, "That kind of makes you sick, don't it?" He asked, taking a deep breath. He rushed to the waste basket.

"Jesus." Joanne remarked, "Weezer's gone down." he backed out of the acidic smelling room, Brian quickly followed, shutting the door. "Do you feel sick?"

"No, I feel great."

"Did you have the catered platters?"

"Um...yeah, but it was from the fruit ones."

"Same here." She started towards her room, "Did they eat the meat?"

"Yeah, they're carnivores." He followed.

Joanne knocked on her door, and called for Sheeny to open, "I think they have food poisoning."

"Who?" Sheeny opened the door, dressed in her night clothes and with a toothbrush in her mouth.

"Did you eat the meat from the platters back stage?"

"Um...no I didn't eat until I got back here."

"Well, we didn't either but Mikey, Pat, and Rivers did and they're having a bit of trouble keeping it down." Brian mused coming into their room.

Sheeny spit her toothpaste into the sink, "Shit." She dialed a number on the hotel phone, waited for an answer, "Rivs? Are you okay." She asked, "Did you eat the meat from the platter?...okay...I hope you feel better by morning." she hung up and grabbed her mobile, "Hi, this is Sheeny Bang from Weezer, your meat is rancid and the whole band's sick." She stated, "Like can't stop puking sick." She clarified, "Yeah, you better hope so, cause I doubt the kids want to see this on stage. You better call the people that ate that, and the ones that made it cause I can see some law suits." She hung up, "Well...the producer's gone down too." She sighed, "So that leaves you two, Karl and me to run the Weezer camp."

Joanne stood outside the door, hearing the shuffling inside. She had some packages in her hand. Rivers opened the door meekly, he looked worse than before, "I brought you two choices, Pepto-Bismol, or Imodium?" She held up her items. He grabbed the box of pills and retreated into his quarters, she followed, leaning against the dresser and watching him fumble with the packages, "Do you need help?" She asked, walking to him and taking the pills from his hands without a fight. She popped two into his hand and filled a glass of water for him. She watched him drink a little, "I'll be back with some crackers a little latter, I have others do deal with."

"Who?" he barely whispered.

"Mikey and Pat got it too...it was the meat." She sighed and moved on to the next room, giving out the drugs they eagerly sought.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 **THIS IS NOT MY FANFIC. REPEAT, THIS IS NOT MINE. THIS IS A VERY OLD FANFIC FROM BY USER Nopinion! I AM MERELY REPOSTING THIS FIC BECAUSE I LIKE IT A LOT AND I FEAR THAT IT IS GOING TO BE DELETED. THANK YOU FOR UNDERSTANDING I JUST LOVE THIS FIC SO DAMN MUCH :3**

A/n: Slash? is Sheeny/Rivers slash? I don't think so...but what ever. I do have a scene in my head, that hasn't fit yet, but it's coming and it does involve Rivers/someone, but who? I'm not telling! :) wait for it...wait for it...good reviewers. Updated every 1,200 words or so.

"Oh, fuck." Rivers groaned, his knees tucked to his chest as he squirmed on the bathroom floor. He couldn't get warm, and he couldn't cool off and he couldn't beat down the nausea and he couldn't stop sweating and he couldn't stop hurting everywhere. All he could do was roll on the floor and try to alleviate his pain with heart felt groans and outbursts to the Gods that had seemingly deserted him. "I hope I'm dead by morning." He tried to stretch out, to relieve the cramps in his stomach, but he merely succeeded in more dry heaves.

Sheeny was sitting on the edge of the tub, tying her best to comfort him with cool wash cloths and blankets. She occasionally called the other rooms to check up on people. The whole crew came down with the same affliction. Sheeny finally called room service, to contact the proper people, at one in the morning, when Rivers was spitting up blood, "Time to get your stomachs pumped." She sighed, she'd hoped the case would be mild and would run through their systems quickly, but blood spitting was clearly a sign of things getting worse. She shuffled groups of four down to the lobby and put them into the taxi's that had been called, the hospital was waiting for the ten people who were violently ill.

"This is an MTV News Brief." Kurt Loder was coming over the TVs at the hospital waiting room, "Due to the fact that the majority of MTV employees and special guests alike are sitting in the emergency rooms around the New York City area, The MTV VMAs, originally scheduled for tomorrow will be pushed back two days. Among those afflicted by food poisonings, obtained from tainted meat, are both the director and producer of the show and well known artists Blink 182, Foo Fighters, and Weezer. Bono, from U2 stated, "Never trust the catered meat." That's news for now, ten to the hour every hour here on MTV." He finished the briefing and the programming of rap and r&b continued.

"Hmmm...we made the news brief." Brian mused, reading a six month old magazine.

Rivers was wheeled out into the waiting area, his release paperwork in hand. He was blind, his glasses still back in the hotel room so he squinted to find his friends. Sheeny was quickly at the doors and talking with the nurse.

"Well, he's ulcer was exaggerated by this food poisoning, so we're upping his medication dose to two pills twice a day." The nurse handed Sheeny the papers that Rivers had been carrying, "Take care, Mrs. Cuomo."

"Oh, um...I'm his assistant, not his wife." Sheeny laughed slightly, taking the duty of wheeling him to where they were sitting and waiting for the others to come out. "I didn't know you had an ulcer."

"Not something I brag about." He smiled weakly, "It's no big deal."

"You have a whole in your stomach and you're drinking coffee and alcohol, that's stopping now." She lectured.

"Hey hey, it's just an occasional beer, and I don't drink too much coffee." He defended, "No more than you do, _mom_." he pouted, looking at the floor.

"We were on MTV news." Brian stated, not looking up from the magazine, "Listed right there along with the Foo Fighters and before the Bono quote."

"Fuck MTV, we're never doing anything for them again." He spat.

"They're sending us a platter." Sheeny teased, although Rivers couldn't tell what the blob meant.

"Send it back."

"Joke?" She asked, "Ha ha?"

"I can't see a thing." He rubbed his eyes with his fingers, "I still don't feel good, can I go back to the hotel?" He whined.

"I'll take him." Joanne promised, looking at the exasperated Sheeny, "I'll come back for the rest of them." she started to wheel Rivers away before Brian could protest.

"So...how was your night of up chucking?" She tried to make a joke, the humor lost on the man who was still in pain and afraid to eat or drink. "Or not." She recoiled from his growl, "Tell me about your next album, have you started?"

"Tell me about this place in Colorado." He changed the subject.

"It's a real small town, only about 4,000 people and it's really spread out, about 9,000 foot, receives about four radio stations, and... hmmmm...pretty quiet."

"You grew up there?"

"Yep."

"Do you visit often?"

"I haven't been back for about three years."

"Couldn't afford it?"

"Yes and no."

"Eh?" he was confused.

"It's one of the places were it's hard to get out of, especially twice. We even have a motto, 'Come on vacation, leave on probation,' not a real goldmine of opportunity." she sighed, "And I don't want to see most of those people ever again."

"Bad memories?"

"I guess you could say that."

"Like what?"

"Like your half Japanese Girls." She laughed a little.

"Oh, sorry."

"It's okay."

Silence, incurable silence. "Brian likes you."

"I know."

"He thinks you're oblivious."

"Maybe I am."

"But you just said-"

"Rivers." She warned.

"Fine." He looked down at his hands.

She lead him, shakily through the halls and up to his room. She put some crackers on a tissue and a glass of water by it, "You should eat something, you know my room number, and hopefully you know Sheeny's phone number. I'm sending in Karl for some pity shots, and you'll be glad to know that your glasses are next to the water on the night stand, please don't hesitate to sleep and I'll see you later." She droned on like an airline steward. He gave a meek thanks and she left him to rejoin the crew and escort more back from the hospital.

"This sucks." Mike cried, his stomach sore from hours of regurgitation, "Your mom called." He handed her the phone they shared, "She left a message while I was, being pumped." He shuddered.

"Thanks," She flipped through the menus of several features before she was able to find her message, but was glad for the tedious distraction from the two whining boys, Mike and Mikey, that she was escorting back, the third group of the night. It was three in the morning there, meaning her mom was three hours earlier, midnight and had called at eleven. "I'll call her in the morning."

She was ready to curl up and sleep for the rest of the day, but two people were still at the hospital wishing they could just have a gun to end it all. Karl wasn't any help, taking pictures as the groups entered the lobby and posting them online. He seemed wide awake. Joanne was ready to kill him by the time she made it to the hotel bed she cherished, "Two have to stay the night, they're too dehydrated." She informed Karl, who was standing in the door frame, taking pictures of her a Sheeny crashing on one bed. "Go away." She flipped him off and fell asleep.

"Good morning, it's time to get up, good morning." The man at the other end of the phone automatedly cheered.

"Fuck off!" She screamed and slammed the receiver down, it was eight in the morning. She scraped her self from her bed and stalked to the lobby to inquire about the person responsible for setting the wake up calls. The front desk had made a mistake in room numbers, it appeared. "Obviously, since I was in her just four hours ago wiping the calls off of everyone's room including mine." She glared at them.

As badly as she wanted to sleep, her mind was working and wouldn't rest long enough for her eyes to close for long. Once up always up, was her mind's idea of fun. She relented and made some coffee in the little pot that was on the counter. She noted the absence of Sheeny's sleeping form on the bed and called Karl's room, "Good morning, time to wake up, Good morning." She monotonously greeted, "Is Sheeny down there? And do you have any sugar?"

"Fuck you, no and no."

"You're the one who was voluntarily up." She stated and hung up. She walked down the hallway to River's room and noted it was propped open with the deadbolt. She knocked lightly and was called in.

"You look horrible." She commented. Rivers was sitting in a loose wife beater and soccer shorts, that expose surprisingly well toned muscled, with stubble on his chin, and bleary red-eyes behind his glasses.

"Thanks Snow White." He mumbled, threw his eyes at the floor and continued, "What do you want?"

"Do you have extra sugar, and maybe an extra Sheeny?"

"Yeah. No." He smiled quickly and dropped the grin just as fast.

"Where and where?"

"There," He pointed at the counter by the coffee maker, "and there." He waved across the hall, "She'd doing her rounds, and confiscated my coffee."

"I'll bring you a cup, hush hush." She grabbed the sugar packets and headed out the door, running into Sheeny who was on her way in. "Morning."

"He's not making you get him coffee is he?"

"No...I just came for his sugar." Joanne showed the packets.

"Hmmm...okay." She watched suspiciously as Joanne headed down the corridor and back into the room they shared.

With a whole day of recovery for all the parties involved, MTV called another day of sound check for regrouping. This time fresh fruit was provided and nothing else. Sheeny once again found someone in their spot.

"What the Hell are you running? We were suppose to be on an hour ago, but no you've got Pink up there, stoned off her ass." Sheeny waved the clipboard at them, "Why the Hell is she suddenly here?"

"We lost a few people, due to scheduling slots, and she's all we could get."

"When are we going on?"

"Um...how about seven?" A young, timid girl asked.

"Seven? It's three fifteen."

"I'm sorry, but the schedule."

"Shove you schedule." Sheeny trotted off. She wondered around the back stage area, finding several people who looked horrible still. Rivers was leaning in a corner on the floor, hood pulled up over his head. The Foo Fighters were looking much the same, unshaven, and still weak on the couch. Blink 182 were lamely sitting on their skateboards, and Brittany Spears was looking much less than here abysmal best. "Any one willing to let Weezer sound check anytime soon?" she asked them.

"Just go now, before anyone can get there." Dave responded.

"Come on Rivs." She pulled his arm, until he stood up, "Wake up."

"Can't I have a Mountain Dew?"

"No, now stop complaining." She gathered the recovering crew and arranged the sprint, "One song and then we're done."

"What do you want to do?" Brian asked.

"Hash Pipe, I guess. So that the sound's right." Rivers mumbled and grabbed his guitar, "Be better if I had CAFFEINE!" He yelled at the retreating Sheeny.

"Tea, Rivers?" Derek asked, "Has caffeine, but not as harsh." He offered his mug.

Rivers took the cup eagerly and drank as much as he could handle at once, "Thanks." He handed the cup back. Derek refilled it from his thermos.

Pink was finally off and the Weezer crew rushed in before the other crews could pounce, "Just one song." Rivers proclaimed in the mike, "You owe us that much." They played their tune and rushed off just as quickly as they had came on.

"Done, now back to bed." Sheeny ordered.

"No complaints." Mikey smiled.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

 **THIS IS NOT MY FANFIC. REPEAT, THIS IS NOT MINE. THIS IS A VERY OLD FANFIC FROM BY USER Nopinion! I AM MERELY REPOSTING THIS FIC BECAUSE I LIKE IT A LOT AND I FEAR THAT IT IS GOING TO BE DELETED. THANK YOU FOR UNDERSTANDING I JUST LOVE THIS FIC SO DAMN MUCH :3**

A/N: Here's that Rivers/? that I mentioned...hehe...hehehehe...I can't stop giggling, enjoy. Look for an edited version soon. I shipped this off to my editor, Ms. Burns today, and I hope to hear from her soon. So excuse the errors, I've done the best I can and now it's the wait till it's all cleaned up.

She was fiddling with the two guitars in Mike's room, idly switching the pick up around to try and mimic the rich sound of the Gibson on the Fender.

"So, what's the plan for tonight?" Derek asked, laying on the opposite bed, watching a muted TV upside down.

"What do you mean, we have the VMAs." She asked, glancing at him.

"I know, I mean after everything is said and done."

"Pack up and set everything for shipping to LA."

"After that, the night will be young." He sighed, "We should go party."

"Haven't you felt bad enough for one week?"

"Distant memory." He sarcastically stated, "We should go out to some clubs tonight and tear up the night life."

"I'm not much for clubs, but I'm sure Mike will join you."

"I'm not puking again this week." He proclaimed from the bathroom.

"Or you could go alone."

"You guys are not fun." He rolled off the bed and headed out of the room, leaving the door open.

Rivers was on his way to discuss VMA issues with Sheeny and glanced into the open room to see her working on the guitars. "I thought you said there was no use." he came in and sat where Derek had just left.

"I might be able to get close, but it won't be the same." She smiled, continuing to pull out and re-apply pieces.

"Just don't screw everything up."

"What, you think I would?"

"I'm just saying to be careful."

"If you didn't want some chance of screw-ups you shouldn't have given me guitars you obviously adore."

"I don't adore them."

"Then don't worry about them."

"I just don't want you to screw up what maybe my future guitars."

"Just shut up Rivers, or I'll get vindictive."

"No need for threats." he looked at her face, instead of the guitars by her side.

"Then don't place any implications on this."

"I wasn't implying anything."

"No? You basically told me that I was going to screw up."

"Did not."

"Did too. You made sure I would focus on doing it perfect because you thought I would be lazy when I already told you duplications were impossible."

"Maybe you said that to make me think it was impossible so that when you screwed up I wouldn't be mad." he snapped, it was the end of the eye to eye conversation as he stared at his feet.

"Is that what you think?" she yelled, "Then get yourself a guitar specialist." She walked away from the two bodies and the two piles of pieces.

Mike was watching Rivers, still sitting on the bed, from the bathroom door, a toothbrush in his mouth. Rivers got up and glanced down at the floor, Mike couldn't see what it was he was looking at, but soon a half-full water bottle was kicked across the room and Rivers was glaring at Mike. Defensively he put his hands up and backed into the bathroom, to finish his morning routine.

He quickly knocked on Sheeny's door and announced, "I'm heading to the venue I'll be in touch." he had his cursed cell phone on him and headed out to catch a cab. Once in the backstage area, Rivers found the refreshments area and took a beer to calm his nerves.

"What's the story?" an MTV techie asked, fixing some fuses in the box.

"Americans are raised with too much freedom in their speech sometimes." He swallowed a mouthful and leaned against the wall.

"Eh? How's that."

"If we couldn't say everything we wanted then maybe we'd only say what we need to, and then we'd be on smooth waters." he illustrated a glass like surface by cutting the air cleanly with is hand.

"Girl trouble?"

"No...just mouth trouble." he wondered around, seeing all the people and watching them scamper from one place to the other, setting up cameras and checking the lighting patterns, and the gimmicks.

"Need another?" an intern asked, pointing to the now empty bottle.

"Sure." The kid ran back and returned with another cold glass bottle.

"Thanks." He mumbled and continued to lurk around the Radio City Music hall and collect his bottles of beer from the assorted refrigerators back stage.

"Rivs?" Sheeny asked, hearing someone answered his phone, but she didn't think the slurring, mumbling man was him. "Is that you?"

"Sure Sheens." He laughed a little.

"Have you been drinking?"

"Depends on who you really are."

"Damn it. We're going to be there in just a few minutes, can you get back to the dressing room?" She asked him, "I hope you make it." She stated, hanging up the phone, "Well...he's been drinking."

"How bad?" Brian asked. The group was once again together in the MTV provided Suburbans.

"Not too bad."

"Maybe he'll have fun tonight then." Pat mused.

"Don't encourage him." Sheeny chastised.

VMA

People screaming, flashes, names, screams, cat calls, cheers, interviews, touching. Hand everywhere, pushing, pulling, grabbing, groping. His name flying off of lips of people that blurred from the front row back to the back and up again, some tried to trot along with the slow procession. Lightheaded and stoked with tea, Rivers smiled here and there and waved and signed and allowed himself to be bruised by the throb of the moving throng of people.

Violated, he felt dirty, used, and violated. He'd let people grab him anywhere they could, push him against the grain up stream to some new reporter, then thrown back down to filter into another. Prodding, poking, names, flashes, screams, posters, CDs, everyone had something from him, but he couldn't even keep his wits to save the interviews. He couldn't help but think that he could be sitting on his couch watching this and making fun of the people being prodded down the carpet.

For now he was blissfully buzzing on weak caffeine and beer, and sitting in the hard seats. He'd been there once before and seen some opera. He'd never felt so dirty in his life then when he realized that. "Can we leave after we play?" He asked Sheeny, his "date" for the evening.

"Yeah, sure." She smiled, "No biggy."

"If you want to watch, that's fine, I just...this is creepy." He smiled slightly, admiring her sparkling black, floor length dress, "You look nice tonight." He smiled at her.

She hadn't expected that, "Oh, um...thanks." It would have been weird if he had smiled, and strange if he had commented, but both together nearly startled her beyond the ability to respond.

"Weezer!" A hushed yell was hurtled across the seats at their left. Rivers was desensitized to the calls and didn't look, but Sheeny did. "Fifteen minutes." The voice called.

"Fifteen minutes." Sheeny whispered to Rivers. He shifted uneasily in his seat and waited for the award recipient to finish her speech. He stood and left the seats, followed by Pat, Brian, and Mikey; they were replaced by the "sitters."

Hash pipe, an off the hook performance that sent the crowd wailing. The crew hurriedly cleaned up what they could and repacked it, neater this time, into boxes. They relabeled everything, THIS SIDE UP and smacked a return address on it. During commercial breaks, the crew would rush the stage along with the others and pull up their cables and little pieces of electronic bliss.

Scott, Pat, and Karl watched a little more before leaving, saying they'd be back in the next day and not to wait up. Brian lingered a little backstage but eventually took a beer and ran after his friends, being told by them their destination. Rivers was sitting in a dressing room, wiping the sweat from his face and carefully putting his guitar away. Sheeny watched him, he was mentally preparing himself for a barrage of, "You shouldn't be drinking" and such. She grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and chugged half of it.

Rivers didn't look up, he didn't want to make the eye contact that would consent conversation. "I'm going back to the hotel." He mumbled, picked up his case and walked passed her. He kept telling himself to move, to walk to the door and back to the hotel, but a stream of people, congratulating him, that he slightly recognized file past. The crew had been dismissed, but Joanne was still packing the last of the items into a crate. His body was perpendicular to her, he looked over his shoulder, his guitar case pulled into his outside leg by gravity; he couldn't stop watching.

"Not polite to stare," She mumbled, looking back at him.

"Why did you let the crew go?"

"They were tired."

"Aren't you tired."

"Doesn't matter." She returned to her task as he slowly stepped up behind her, "Lead by example."

"Want some help?" he asked, already starting to coil up the last cable.

"Help yourself." she said coldly.

He wrapped the cord up, watching her finish her labels. "I didn't mean to upset you." He mumbled.

"What?" She asked, not hearing him.

He spoke up a little more, "I didn't mean to offend you."

"I'm not offended." she looked at him with a cocked eyebrow.

"I mean, you know...the guitars." he didn't look at her.

"Okay."

"I mean...ah...I...it came out wrong." He stumbled through his explanation.

"Okay." She took the cable from him and put it in the box. "Thanks for the help." She said, sealing the box an starting for the door.

"Share a cab?" He asked.

"You're not going out, are you?" she turned and looked at him.

"Um...well...no. Have fun." He smiled weakly and walked through the door.

"Oh...I'm not going out." She laughed, "I thought you were."

"And risk the wrath of Sheeny?" He looked up at her, putting a hand out for a cab, "Done that once tonight."

"Then, yeah. Let's share a cab, but you're paying." She stated, "You don't pay me enough as it is."

"You get everything you need, on tour." He stated, opening the cab door for her and getting in after her.

She looked out the window, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Rivers was actually not avoiding eye contact, but seemed to gaze at her in an attempt to get it. She glanced at him, caught his eyes in hers. He didn't shoot his stare away, but held hers until she couldn't stand it and snapped her focus back to the window.

"Why can't you ever look people in the eye?"

"I can."

"You hardly ever do."

"It's uncomfortable."

"Then what did you just do?"

"I don't know." he sighed, staring at his hands, "Do you hate me?" he hoarsely whispered.

"Not always."

"But you hate me, sometimes?"

"I hate a lot of people more than you."

He furrowed his brow, and cleared his throat, "I'm sorry."

"Okay."

"Can we just not fight?"

"I don't know."

"What's wrong with me?" He rhetorically asked, rubbing his eyes under his glasses.

"I don't know, a lot of things, probably." she smiled and smacked his shoulder, trying to make him feel better.

He was silent the rest of the ride, but the tenseness in his shoulders had lightened, and he seemed to relax.

Mike called to them from the lobby bar, when they came through the doors. Joanne waved and smiled and started over to them, Rivers followed, reluctantly.

"Are you done?" Mike asked, drunkenly waving an empty shot glass.

"Are you hammered?"

"Hmmmm...no." He smiled, "Well...yeah." He admitted with a smile.

"I thought you didn't want to feel sick so quickly."

"Fuck it, you only live once!" He slurred.

The bar tender asked her if she and Rivers wanted anything, "Ahh...whiskey and coke?" She asked, Rivers went for another beer.

One beer turned into two and one whiskey mixture turned into a few. And soon they all decided to go up to their rooms and sleep. The group helped each other out of the elevator, laughing and stumbling, and trying to be quiet at the same time.

Joanne still had some of her wits about her, but not too many. She dropped Mikey off in his room and stumbled along with Rivers down to his room. He was opening the door, she leaned against the frame watching his hands fumble with the card.

The fingers stopped moving, causing Joanne to look up at him, he was looking at her. He bent forward and kissed her, forcing her back into the door. She couldn't think to protest and grabbed the side belt loop of his pants and pulled him closer to her. He managed to slip the card in and open the door without releasing her lips.

She stumbled backwards through the opening, Rivers kicking the door shut, and landed beneath him on the bed. He kissed her neck and pulled her shirt over her head. She was nearly motionless under him, slightly touching his sides. His arms were underneath her struggling with the clasp to her bra. His breath made her hair tickle her skin. She started giggling, uncontrollably. The situation was insanely humorous for the time being. Rivers looked at her red face and the tears in her eyes and started to laugh along with her.

He collapsed on top of her, laughing in drunken bliss. They managed to calm themselves and he roll of off her onto his back beside her.

She caught her breath and sighed, "Has it really been that long?" She giggled.

"Yeah, I guess so." He giggled with her, "You?"

"Yep."

"How long?"

"Longer than you, I bet."

"Hard to believe." He smiled and relaxed, closing his eyes.

"How long then?"

"It's embarrassing."

"I'll tell you if you tell me."

"You first."

"Why so you can lie and make your self look good?"

"Two years." he sighed.

"Jesus."

"Well?"

"I don't know."

"Estimate."

"Um...one and a half, maybe." She rolled over and laid her head on his shoulder, "If neither of us get laid by the end of this, I'll sleep with you." She stated.

"Don't think I'll forget it." The fell asleep, barely lying on the bed and with their arms around each other.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

 **THIS IS NOT MY FANFIC. REPEAT, THIS IS NOT MINE. THIS IS A VERY OLD FANFIC FROM BY USER Nopinion! I AM MERELY REPOSTING THIS FIC BECAUSE I LIKE IT A LOT AND I FEAR THAT IT IS GOING TO BE DELETED. THANK YOU FOR UNDERSTANDING I JUST LOVE THIS FIC SO DAMN MUCH :3**

A light tapping, fabric being moved, harder tapping, shifting weight on creaking springs, light pounds, a small groan, hard pounding, a muffled voice, more groans, a cough, shuffling across carpet, "What the Hell?"

"It's not what it looks like, Brian." The door shuts, muffled voices, yells, the door opens and closes. "Hey, wake up." A hand shook her shoulder, "Up you come."

A pounding headache, cold, sticky, bitter taste in mouth, too much light. She stood despite her wants and made her way out of the room and down the hallway to her room. She glanced at the sleeping Sheeny and headed into the bathroom. The shower was hot and cleansed the salty sweat, from last night's work, from her body. The bathroom was warm with steam, making her reluctant to go back into the cold room. But once again she ignored her wants and exited the warm area in search of clothes.

Sheeny was gone, out of the room. She dressed and decided to brush her teeth. Today would be a travel day, again. With a plane ride across country and then a days off in LA. The tour was in sight and the schedule confirmed. She was thinking about her family, seeing her family in just two week's time.

A knock on the door disrupted her task of straightening her suitcase. She sighed and pulled the door open. Sheeny, with two cups of coffee, was smiling her good morning smile and came in.

"Where'd you sleep last night?" She came in, handing a hot cup to Joanne.

"Um...Rivers' room."

"Really?" Sheeny was suddenly interested, rather than obligated in the conversation, but she was also a little hurt.

"Nothing happened," Joanne assured, "We stopped at a few kisses, and that's where I fell asleep."

"Oh... okay." Sheeny smiled quickly, "Did he get sloshed?"

"Umm...talk to him."

"He'll kill himself sooner or later." she sighed and joined Joanne in rearranging her suitcase to make everything fit.

"We all die sometime." Joanne mumbled, zipping up her bag and setting it by the door, "When's check out?"

"Ah...eleven?"

"Okay." Joanne headed down the hall and knocked on Mike's door. "Check out in three hours!" she yelled hearing groans on the other side.

"Coffee?" Mike asked, poking his head from the doorway.

"Lobby." She smiled, hoisting her cup tauntingly.

"Bitch."

"So?"

"Aspirin?"

"Nope."

"Just go away." He shut the door, retreating to groans of more than just him and Derek.

The airport lobby. No one was feeling fantastic, and everyone had regrets from the night before. Brian, Pat, Mike, and Karl hunched together, laying on each other's shoulders. Brian looked morbidly white, sick, and puffy eyed. He glanced at Joanne a few times, always shaking his head and looking away; he'd then look at Rivers and do the same thing before he would close his eyes and try to find some comfort on Mikey's shoulder. Rivers was sitting accross the aisle, his head don his shoulder. Sheeny next to him.

Joanne tried to focus on her book, but couldn't manage to understand any paragraph on the first read. Eventually she tired of re-reading every statement three times and took to people watching. The crowds walked by, some looking at Rivers, sleeping without his glasses, and decided to not disturb the painful looking group. The flight was called, the baggage checked, the people screened and the take off routine. Everyone was asleep in the air, accept Joanne. She stared at the back of the seat in front of her and tried to conjure up the will to sleep. She couldn't.

The LA show, up the coast, and to Seattle, all without a hitch. The crew was like clockwork, the shows phenomenal. Rivers was operating at a high standard, pushing the musical limits. When he wasn't playing, doing media, or on the internet chatting with his boardies, he was writing. The notebook always at hand, easy to find, and constantly warm from use.

The only down side to the week's pilgrimage from hall to hall was the arrangement on the buses. There were two buses, one for band and one for crew. However, many crew members stowed away with the band, seeing at the bus was half home, half moving hotel. The crew bus was pretty much all hotel, with three rows of tight, coffin like bunks in two columns along the walls, with the aisle running down the middle. There was a small bathroom, a tiny kitchen with refrigerator and two booths that held two people in the front by the driver. In all the twenty member crew shared 12 bunks, four benches, and three shelves in a quarter-sized refrigerator.

Joanne stayed true to her titles as production manager, and crew director and stayed with her roadies on the crew bus. She communicated with the other bus by phone. After the Seattle show, the crew noted their extended break of two days and went out drinking, absorbing the scene.

"Good show." She commented to Brian who's look lingered in her eyes before he nodded slightly and walked down the street to get smashed, like the other nights of the tour. "What's with him."

"He saw you in my room." Rivers said, coming up in his hoodie, freshly showered in the venue's facilities.

"Didn't you tell him?"

"He didn't believe me, he hasn't talked to me since."

"That's not good." She stated trying to fully take in the situation, "I should talk to him."

"He likes you."

"So you've said."

"You like him."

She laughed at him, "What makes you think that?"

"The way you avoid the subject."

"I don't."

"You do. Then there's the way you always keep an eye on him during the day and you make sure his guitar is always in tune. You change his strings every other night."

"I want him to sound good." She shrugged, continuing her clean up routine.

"You've only changed mine once this whole week."

"Shut up." she was getting upset.

"You like him, he likes you, and you need to get laid, although that would mess up my plans. So what's the matter?"

"I don't want to talk about it." she warned.

"It's a natural attraction of seemingly divine creation." he smiled.

"Aren't we sure of voice tonight, been rehearsing?"

"I don't need to rehearse, it's common knowledge."

"I heard you in the shower."

"What? You were ease dropping on me?"

"No, but you admit you practiced this speech."

"That was uncalled for." he dropped his smile.

"So is this. It's my life." she put two crates on a dolly and wheeled them out the door, "You might want to get on the bus, we're parking down the street." She warned.

"Why wont you give Brian a chance, he's a great guy."

"This conversation has ended." She yawned, "Now get on the bus." She trotted up the steps.

"Look, this isn't just about you." He sat accross from her at the tables, "This is about a really good friend of mine, who's being tormented by a girl everyday."

"Fire me."

"I can't do that, you're under contract."

"Break the contract, I won't sue." She shrugged, "What ever makes you happy."

"It's not economically sound." he smiled, "You replaced two and a half people." He smiled.

"I can't do it, not now."

"Why not?" his constant eye contact was making her uneasy again.

"Don't do that."

"What?"

"The eye contact," She shuddered, "It's creepy."

"Fine then, if I stop the eye contact you have to give Brian a shot."

"You just want to make good with you friend, get him a good lay, set you two back straight." She smirked, "But you forget, he thinks we've been together. What makes you think he wants your seconds?" She sat back. Rivers inadvertently lowered his gaze.

"But we didn't have sex."

"I can make you a notch on my post, my word against yours. And I was in your room the morning after." She smiled wickedly, "A drunken mistake. We had too much to drink."

"Stop it." He kept his voice even but harsh.

"Lay off Rivers, you have no idea what you're talking about."

"If you told me, then maybe I would." He made eye contact, "But you're afraid someone will actually figure you out, and then you'll have to stop pretending."

"Pretending what?"

"That you're not scared of anything." Her eyes took their turn at falling, "That you want, to run and hide from the bad things just like the rest of us, you're all talk." he smiled at her measured intake of breath, she was holding back her emotions, "You chose to live the way you did, just so you could make sure you had a one up on everyone else, so they wouldn't challenge how tough you are."

"Shut up."

"No...you shut up and listen." He grabbed her hand, taking on a soothing voice, "Brian's a nice guy, you're a nice girl, give it a chance."

"I'll think about it." She looked in his eyes, a tear on the brim. She quickly trotted off the bus, in need of fresh air.

"Pushy, pushy." The driver shook his head, "No wonder you never comeback with girls."

"Shut up." Rivers rolled his eyes and headed to the other bus. Karl was typing away on his computer, "I thought you went out with the boys." he pulled a bottled water form the mini-fridge and sat across from him.

"I have some stuff to do." He smiled, turning the laptop to face Rivers.

"That has to be the worse picture I've ever taken." He gawked, "Is that drool?"

Karl laughed, "The message board says it is." He smiled.

"That's online?"

"Submitted through email and posted on the board."

Rivers searched through his stuff and came back to the table. He plugged his laptop into his cell phone and logged onto the boards. "You're a mod, can't you do something about this?"

"Suddenly self-conscious?"

"No...just...that's creepy."

"That's the glories of public transport."

"Did you see them take this picture?" He asked, closing several AIM instant message screens.

"No, they claim to have one of me, but they like me too much to put it up."

"Why do you get all the worship?" He asked, closing more dialog windows and trying to read the board responses.

"Cause I do the web page. Where would these people be without my technical support? Where would they go for daily news of activities?"

"Karl." He whined, "Take it down."

"PM her, and ask her." He suggested, "Who am I to censor?"

"Fine." He use the board PM option and contacted the girl.

"Any luck?"

"We're negotiating." he eyed her next response.

"What for?"

"An autograph."

"Oooh...ouch." Carl mocked, "So, what are you going to do about all the ones that now have it saved to their hard drives?"

"I'll post for them to not put it up any more."

"What about the sort that would do anything to get you to IM them?"

"Shit." He grumbled, staring at the screen, "Karl." He whined again, "What can I do?"

"Nothing." He was smiling, typing away on an edition for his corner.

"You love this, don't you?"

"Makes my day."

Brian stumbled up the steps, grumbled a greeting and headed back into the bunks.

"So what's this all about?" Karl asked.

"What?"

"You and Brian are having a fight, what's it about?"

"We're not fighting."

"Yeah, that's why the conversations last three days."

"We're just not up for talking."

"What's it about."

"Nothing." Rivers growled.

"Some nothing." Karl scrolled down on his screen, checking his script, "It's Joanne, isn't it?"

Rivers was silent.

"So you slept with her, it's not like he was dating her."

"I didn't sleep with her."

"You don't have to lie, I'd do her."

"See that's the problem, we didn't sleep together, but Brian thinks we did. He really likes her."

"So... why not?"

"Urgh! I'm going to bed." Rivers slipped into the back and crouched down into his lower bunk.

The moisture left from three days of continuous rain made sure everything near it was damp. Joanne could feel the particles of water settle in beads on her head. The chill of the water making it's way down her back in a stream emphasized the stupidity in not bringing a jacket. Joanne walked under the lamps, watching as the folks of the late night club scene rushed from grooving place to beat filled club. Couples everywhere. For every guy empty handed there was another with his arm around someone. They skipped along in bliss, while Joanne watch, feeling the stench of loneliness contaminate her mood.

She sat on a bench under a light. Cold, sad, alone, and far from the mind of anyone near by. She wanted to be with someone, have someone hold her hands and make them warm. But her luck hadn't ever pulled her in that direction. She'd been on one proper date in her whole life; and that romantic slob scampered back to the girl of his dreams after only a week. She hadn't considered a relationship in almost a year. She was sure she could only bring heartbreak to any special feelings she'd ever had. A cold, miserable, jinx sat in the sweating Seattle atmosphere and considered the thought she'd promised to think.

"Wake up." Someone's warm hand rubbed his lower arm, back and forth, pushing his blood through his network of veins. He swatted at the feelign that meant the beginning of yet another day of lurking about yet another city making more superficial friends and watching Rivers and Joanne bicker back and forth about guitars, and sounds, and wire placements, and dinner. Rivers didn't know what he had. But Brian did, he had someone nagging at his bunkside, trying to bring him into the light of the new day's bus ride.

"Brian, come on. I've got some nice truck stop coffee for you." She coersed.

"No cream?"

"Non-dairy."

"Ehhh...later." He tried to pull the curtain back to sheild his face from the light.

"Come on, get up." She asked again, "I'll get you an apple."

"Apple sauce." He grunted and started the wriggling routine of sliding from his top bunk to the floor without falling. "What?" He looked at his waker, "Where's Sheeny?" he asked, blearily surprized.

"Some meeting, with Rivers and some people to set up some recording of something in some town. Or some stuff like that."

"Oh..." his face drooped at the fact that this girl knew more than him because of her relationship with Rivers.

"Sit and wake up with me."

"Um...did you sleep here?"

"No, on the crew bus." She showed a sarcastic shiver, "I shared a bunk with Mike, but at least we didn't have Derek too." She smiled and sat down in a booth.

"You and Mike? And Derek? And...R-"

"Naw, I'm without much company these days."

"Oh, so things are kind of rough for you?"

"I didn't sleep with him." She sipped her coffee.

"None of my business if you did." dibelief swarmed over his features as he took a turn in sipping his coffee.

"We didn't." She touched his hand, "I haven't slept with anyone."

He looked at her, "It's not my place." he smiled quickly and looked down at his cup.

"I found a news paper, do you want to find a theater and see a flic with me?"

"Huh?"

"A movie, do you want to see a movie? With me?" she reiterated slowly.

"Like a date?"

"Um...yeah...like a date."

He smiled widely, "I guess it would be alright." a blush came into his cheeks and he deverted is eyes to his cup of coffee.

"I hope so...'cause I really want to get to know you better." She grabbed his hand and squeezed his fingers, feeling his grip in return.

A/N:So...there ya go...Rivers doesn't get the girl. Isn't that the way of like every...wait a minute...Isn't Mr. Cuomo suppose to get everything that walks his way? Who knows maybe I'll write a side story that's a little more raunchy and explores Cuomo's inner workings, nawh. Brian's more fun. Review!


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

 **THIS IS NOT MY FANFIC. REPETE, THIS IS NOT MINE. THIS IS A VERY OLD FANFIC FROM BY USER Nopinion! I AM MERELY REPOSTING THIS FIC BECAUSE I LIKE IT A LOT AND I FEAR THAT IT IS GOING TO BE DELETED. THANK YOU FOR UNDERSTANDING I JUST LOVE THIS FIC SO DAMN MUCH :3**

A/N: I don't own Weezer, established a while back. And I don't own Glenn Isle, but I do know the family (I ask them to not sue cause I don't have money and I'm not speaking bad about their establishment), and I don't own the Chrisian Camp, although I have stayed there with family and used their foosball tables. If you recognize these names as being where you live, then guess what? I live there too. And maybe we can talk sometime...but you probably already know and hate me.

And you guys thought it was finished! Mawahahaha... more added jan. 2003.

Rivers trotted up the steps onto the bus, followed by a gush of early morning cold air and Sheeny. He was smiling and hardly paying attention to anything other than where he was walking. Sheeny on the other hand stared at his back, wanting to slice through his vest and into his back with a serated knife.

"Good meeting?" Brian asked Sheeny.

"Never this early, never again." She glared, looking quite hungover despite the several hours of being awake.

"What was it about?" Joanne asked, sipping her coffee, and trying to get use to Brians stare.

"The whole Matt deal." Brian shrugged, "I guess we're coming out on the good end, other wise Rivs wouldn't be bouncing around at," He looked at his watch, "Jesus, seven in the morning!" He exclaimed, "Never this early again!" He reiterated Sheeny's earlier statement and tried to glare at Joanne. He couldn't hold his serious expresion, and dropped his eyes with a smile.

"Joanne?" Rivers called from the bunk area.

"What?"

"Have you figured out the Colorado thing?"

"Just need to look up some phone numbers, if I can barrow your internet connection." She shouted over her shoulder. Taping on plastic, and ruffled movements were streaming from the back, "Need some help?" she turned and looked down the aisle.

"No." He called, pulling something from the small compartment and coming back to the front. "Welcome to Cuomo's computer course." He smiled, setting his laptop down on the table, several cords extending from it and dangling from the table.

"I've worked with them before." She informed.

"Sure...sure." He started to connect the cords to the outlet and phone. "Here," he pointed to an icon, "is the internet, and here is the browser, and... well," He pointed to a postit note that was in the upper part of the screen, "my sign on names and passwords, just don't give them out." He said the last part fairly quietly, "Not that you would, I trust you completely. Tt's just..." He tried to avoid another battle.

"I got ya." She smiled, patting his shoulder, "Go chill out, or something."

"I think I'll stay thank you." He sat in the opposing booth with his back to the window and his leg on the seat. "So tell me about this place you have in mind?" he asked, watching her struggle with the pointer pad.

"It's in a small town, near, but not too close to Denver, well actually there are two possibilities to consider and four all together."

"How so?"

"It use to be a resort town in the fourties, lost of summer homes and stuff, but two places are always being sold, changing owners and policies, and with really bad food. One's been passed along a family it's whole existance, nice people, but no food supplied. And the other's owned by the Christian Camps of America, no food supplied and religous artwork." She told of her area.

"So this family place and a Christian place?"

"Christian Camp. They have foosball tables in their gym, but the sleeping arrangements are all bunk style. I think Glenn Isle is like that too, though. But both places provide full houses, kitchens running water, firewood."

"We can stack mattresses, right?"

"Yeah, I'm sure we can."

"So... which one?"

"The Christian Camp is right where my dad is, like two miles away, and Glenn Isle is closer to ten; but Glenn Isle is right on the river, and has immediate access to the highway, no dirt roads."

"They're in the same town?" Sheeny asked, looking over Joanne's shoulder at the internet search.

"Yeah, about a fifteen mile radious is the town."

"Wow, I thought it was a small town."

"There's no real town, it's just like subdivisions off of Highway 285 that all respond to the same zip code. That's what makes you in Bailey, the zip code."

"Dirt roads?"

"Yeah, dirt roads, at least by my dad and a few back by the river."

"What's quieter?"

"Christian Camp."

"Then let's do that."

"Okay." She unplugged the phone and dialed the number she had looked up. "Hi, I would like to reserve a place to stay for a week." She nodded her head back and forth with the sound of the woman's voice, "Yeah, between one and twenty. It's a veriable that will solidify in the next week." She listened some more, "Ah...kitchen, beds, some sort of communications...just a week, um... september 23rd through the 31st." She covered the mouthpiece of the phone, "There's going to be a convention at the same time, but the houses are separated by quite a bit."

"No people."

She switched back to the woman, "Will they be walking around everywhere, or consentrated in on place?" She nodded, "Okay, thanks...we'll call you if we decide you're the place." She hung up the phone and dialed another number, "It's a youth conference, hiking, in the area." Rivers cringed. "Yes, hello. I'm looking for a place for a group to stay Septemver 23rd to the 31st?" She waited, and rolled her eyes, "Um up to twenty... The thing is, it needs to be very private, and quiet... um...okay... yes... thank you." She turned to Rivers, "No other big groups, just a few holidayers." He nodded, "That would be great." She hung up the phone, "One hundred dollars a night."

"Sounds great." Rivers smiled, "This is the place by the highway?"

"Yeah, but the river's between it."

"It's a whole house?" Brian saught to clarify.

"Yeah, bunk bed style."

"Optional?" He asked her smirking.

"Maybe." She smiled back and made her way out of the bus and back to the crew.

"Back so soon?" Mike was reading a magazine.

"I wouldn't call that soon, but yeah I'm back."

"So... what are you going to do when we hit Colorado for a week?"

"Visit my family."

"Cool."

"You're welcome to come. I'm sure they would love to meet you."

Derek peaked out of his bunk, "You mean you're not related?"

"Still listening on my conversations?"

"No we're not."

"Wow... I thought you were like brother and sister, or cousins, or something."

"No... just friends."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

 **THIS IS NOT MY FANFIC. REPETE, THIS IS NOT MINE. THIS IS A VERY OLD FANFIC FROM BY USER Nopinion! I AM MERELY REPOSTING THIS FIC BECAUSE I LIKE IT A LOT AND I FEAR THAT IT IS GOING TO BE DELETED. THANK YOU FOR UNDERSTANDING I JUST LOVE THIS FIC SO DAMN MUCH :3**

Waking up next to a warm body was normal for Jo in the cramped space she called home. Waking up skin on skin without the vibration of a moving vehicle was somewhat disorientating. It only took her a few seconds to remember why she was lying proned under the relaxed body of a rock guitarist. She immediately put her hand to her forhead and choked back her disturbed yelps that her soul wished to force out.

He stirred and rolled off of her. She quickly located her clothing and sped off to her room with Sheeny. She was crying by the time she got there.

"You're back early." Sheeny pulled the blankets close around her. Jo dived into the bathroom and sobbed. "Honey, what's the matter?" Sheeny knocked on the door. The shower turned on and distorted the sound. "Jo? Are you okay in there."

She washed herself in disbelief, sobbing. She eventually recognized her need to get out of the shower and prepare to leave. Her face was swollen with tears, but the cold water helped sooth the burning. She sucked up her emotions and walked into the room.

"Jo? What's the matter?" Sheeny tried to console.

"Nothing, really." She started to dress.

"What happened with Brian?"

"It's nothing." She stoicly continued.

"He came by, saying you left before he woke up."

"So? I needed a shower and all my clothes were in here."

"You were crying."

"It's nothing." She was forceful in her statement and hurredly finished zipping her bag.

"Okay, what ever. I need to get Rivers up." She held the door for Jo as she drug her bag into the hallway. Jo fallowed behind her through the hallway, praying not to see Brian. Sheeny knocked on Rivers' door, which swung open on contact. "Oh, sorry."

Jo saw him sitting on the edge of his bed, his hands propping up his glum face, a girl sound a sleep in the mess of sheets. They locked eyes and shared a knowing glance.

Jo huddled in her bunk while all the others sat wide awake where they could. She felt the jerky stop of the vehicle and heard the mass exit of the crowd. Footsteps came up the aisle and stopped at her curtain. She braced herself for Brian's wondering face.

"Could you use a beer? I hate drinking alone." She smiled with a laugh and rolled out of the cubby. She followed him into the diner, avoiding eye contact with everyone else. He ordered two Heinekins and sat across from her in a two person booth.

"Why do you sleep with strangers?" She asked.

"I guess it just felt like I should still want to." He sat his hands ontop of the table and locked his fingers together, mimicing her position. "It use to be exciting. That release without consequence. Never having to be envolved and hurt. That's the life when you're twenty two." The beers came, "Thanks." He commented to the waitress, after she'd left. "You know how you feel when you just did something so right and it was so exausting? That's why I use to do it."

"How old was she?"

"I don't know."

"What was her name?"

"I don't know."

"Did she know who you are?"

"I'm not really sure, but I think so."

"And it wasn't a release?"

"No."

"Maybe you're growing up."

"What happened with you and Brian?"

"Nothing, why?"

"He's upset about something."

"I left to get a shower before he got up."

"Liar."

"I did."

"Sheeny said you were crying."

"Sheeny was sleeping."

"You don't like your patern either."

"I don't have a patern."

"How well do you know Brian?"

"Well enough."

"Like the others?"

"Maybe more."

"We just hate to be alone, don't we?"

"Yep."

"So what about Brian?"

"What about him? There's nothing wrong."

"What ever."

"Everything's peachy."

"Then why are you talking to me and not him?"

"Fuck off Cuomo." she glared at his staring, matter-of-fact eyes, "Thanks for the beer."

"Don't tell Sheeny about it, it's funner when she smells it." He smiled.

"Jo!" Brian trotted after her. "Wait up."

"Sorry about this morning, I needed a shower and I didn't want to wake you up."

"Oh... that's okay." He smiled for a second before frowning again. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No... not your fault. I'm just not really ready for this."

"A little fast?"

"Yeah."

"That's okay. We can slow down."

"No. I can't do this."

"But..."

"I really enjoy your company, but I'm trying to break a pattern here." She grabbed his limp hand, "They always say it's okay to slow down, but in a week..." She was almost crying, "I'm sorry." The tears were at her eyes and he watched her walk off to the bus.

She sobbed in her bunk, curled into a fetal position. Mike poked her back, "Flatten out, I can't fit when you're like that." She stretched out and allowed him to crawl in by her and wrap her in warmth and soothing words that he knew too well how to utter. "You know, it's just not the right time. Maybe he's not the right one for where you are. You're going to find that person that makes you feel special. Not every guy treats you like all the others, and Brian's much better than everyone else. See... you're tastes are getting better. Maybe you're just a few feet away from finding the one you really want." She nodded into his chest over and over again, feeling the sobs subside and finally becoming intune with his breathing and his soft melodic mumbles. She slowly fell asleep.

"So... for the record, nice and loud, 'What is the standings of the band and crew a third of the way into the tour?'" Karl asked Phil, camera in hand.

"We have basically divided into band and crew. Brian won't talk to Jo or Mike and avoids the whole crew; he's at odds with Rivers. Jo, won't talk to Rivers, Brian, or Sheeny. Mikey and Sheeny are still not communicating. Sheeny and Rivers, ironically, aren't communicating aside from business. And the entire group is uniting against Derek because of a few pranks he's played, but that should blow over in a few days."

"Would you say this is complete melt down? To clairify for the fans."

"It's better than last time isn't it?"

"And what is the standing of the Colorado soccer game?"

"Still on, and talking trash."

The bus rumbled through the day with Jo stifly crammed into the compartment, sometimes with Mike. He came to her, thrusting his head through the curtain, "Are you hungry Jo?"

She waited a moment assessing her situation and covering her head, "Queezy."

"Water? Ginger Ale?"

"No, thanks."

He sat down again in the huddle of sweating bodies and took up his cards in the massive uno battle.

"She dead?"

"Not hungry or thirsty, she doesn't feel good."

"She never eats while we're moving." Derek chimed in.

"I guess she doesn't." Mike shrugged.

"Where are we?" Derek called up to the driver.

"Just passed the middle of nowhere and on our way through Grand Junction."

"Thanks!" Derek shouted back. Mike had their shared phone out, looking at it as if mesmorized. "It's your turn. Mike? You're turn. Green or seven."

"Sorry." He slapped down a seven and continued to stare at the screen.

"You're going to hurt your eyes."

"Jo wants to call her mom as soon as she can." He stood up, nearly falling in the process from the moving vehicle. "Jo... call your mother." He handed the phone into her. She groggily accepted the plastic and dialed. "My deed is done." He focused on his game.

"Mom?" Jo feably called into the receiver. "You there? I'm near Colorado. I'm not sure where."

"Oh... that's fantastic." She was bubbling with happiness, "How are you?"

"I'm... I'm tired."

"You shouldn't work so hard. I know you're doing everything."

"No I'm not. Just some interpersonal stuff."

"You're not dating a musicial are you?"

"Not anymore."

"Oh Jo. Dating dreamers never makes a stable life."

"Mom, I'm on a bus fourteen hours a day. Nothing is stable."

"I called some of your old friends, the ones in the book. So maybe you can see some of them."

"That would be awesome."

"You're cut-g out."

"Mom?"

"ho- yo- ting- t."

"Bye." She hung up the phone and cradled it against her chest, feeling lonier then before.

"Can I jump in?" She shifted back, much to Derek's surprize. "Well. Thanks." He situated his long body alongside her's, "How do you and Mike do this?" He grabbed her for balance, nearly falling out in a bump.

"Like that."

"So... when we get to Colorado. Can I... um... well... I really don't have anywhere to go, all the other guys have friends and stuff to do, and well. I just-"

"Yeah, you can hang out with me and my friends."

"Thanks."

"Not a problem."

"Why don't you eat while we're moving?"

"What?"

"You've never shared in our on tour snacking."

"Motion sickness. I feel horrible."

"It shows."

"What do you mean?"

"At first you were gaining weight, you looked great not fat or anything, but then we started away from the west coast and you look a lot thinner then before. I'm just concerned, that's all."

"I just need a break I guess. Some home cooked food."

"Is your mom a good cook?"

"No, but she's got all the stuff I need. And my dad's not half bad."

"Have you seen them since the split?"

"I forgot about that."

"No you didn't."

"I heard about it the week before the interview."

"That sucks, divorce."

"Yeah."

"Well, I came in here to cheer you up, I'm not doing too well."

"It's okay. Do you have any nieces or nefews?"

"No."

"My sister just had a baby, and I'm gonna get to see her." She smiled and laughed a bit.

"See you don't need us guys, you can take care of yourself." he rubbed her shoulder.

"Thanks." she looked away from his eyes to avoid the want to kiss him. He slipped from the cubby and left her feeling some what more expectant and optimistic.

The bus was stopped. People were moving around and calling to one another. Someone was coming up the aisle. Jo was lying under Mike; her leg falling over the edge. She was only becoming slightly aware of her situation when someone grabbed her knee and tugged. Immediatly her bruises from kneeling caused her to pull back. The grabber pulled back the curtain.

"Oh, I'm sorry, they didn't tell me you were... envolved." Her dad stared blankly at the two. She expertly slipped from under him and into the aisle. She grabbed him and squeezed, crying at the soft feel of his customary flanel shirt. "It's okay baby, I missed you too."

"You have no idea." She wiped her eyes with her fingers and stared up into his smiling face, "What are you doing here?"

"Your mother called and had me set up a welcome comitee, complete with signs."

"Yeah, sure." She grabbed his fingers and pulled him off the bus, stopping at the windows.

"Yeah, can I make a joke?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

 **THIS IS NOT MY FANFIC. REPETE, THIS IS NOT MINE. THIS IS A VERY OLD FANFIC FROM BY USER Nopinion! I AM MERELY REPOSTING THIS FIC BECAUSE I LIKE IT A LOT AND I FEAR THAT IT IS GOING TO BE DELETED. THANK YOU FOR UNDERSTANDING I JUST LOVE THIS FIC SO DAMN MUCH :3**

Thanks for the beta: CaliJackalope!

"Joanne!" Her sister was the first to rush forth from the crowd.

"Brittany!" She wrapped her arms around her some what plump sister, "Where's Jessica?"

"Oh, she's at home. But you'll see her."

"Amy." She hugged her friend.

"Glory hog." Mikey pushed her before heading into the restaurant.

"Conceited Rock star!" She called after him.

"Wow, you work for Weezer." Amy was smiling widely. "You have to tell me everything."

The gathering filed into the building and took up the conference room, "How did you know we were stopping here?" she walked with her arm around her dad's waist.

"I called the record company and told them that my daughter was on tour with Weezer, and they told me to email Karl to make sure, and then I gave him directions to this place, and then I had him call when you were in Grand Junction." He smiled.

"Did you not invite mom?" She hesitantly asked.

"I did, and she wanted to come, but she had to work, or something." He looked down, "I'll fill you in later."

Surrounded by her family and friends, Jo laughed as she caught up on their personal histories. She told them about the car she was going to buy, paying cash, instead of tuition. "What's debt? Everyone needs a goal." She playfully waved her arms.

"She's amazingly happy." Derek squeezed Mike's shoulders as he stepped towards the bathroom.

Mike stared contentedly at the large, loud gathering on the other side of the restaurant. He watched her mouth contort into full toothed smiles, and heard her middle-toned laugh waft over the tables. He smiled and stared at her explosive mannerisms. He'd never seen her so relaxed and energized in their entire friendship.

Jo drew out instructions for the bus drivers who were to haul up the entire crew to the camp. She warned them of the narrow dirt roads that might be a little icy, and tapped the doors as they pulled away. The lightness of the evening waned away with her thin frame falling behind a sign.

"Can you take me to mom's?" She asked her dad.

"Sure." He smiled and opened the car door for her.

"So... do you want to tell me about it?"

"About what?"

"The divorce."

"She didn't tell you?"

"No."

"We just grew apart over the years and it's really a friendship, not a relationship."

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"We're interested in other people, but we're still friends."

"Come again?" she couldn't rationalize the statements. They hadn't ever fought, hardly argued, never contradicted one another, never did anything without the other.

"Instead of cheating on each other, we decided it was time to head down separate paths."

She sat there and shook her head, "People don't get divorced like that."

"Some people do."

"Who's idea was it?"

"Both of our's."

"Impossible."

"Don't huff about it. We've always been honest with each other."

"Then why didn't she come?"

"That's another issue." he stated as he pulled into a sleek suburb that she had only ever passed by.

"And what issue is that?" She asked as he parked his car in the driveway of a moderately sized house.

"It's really something we should discuss with your mother." He walked up to the door, with her fallowing close behind him. He rang the bell and they stood waiting, "I would hate to walk in on anything, unannounced, you know how she likes to be warned so she can straighten her hair." He smiled and laughed a little.

Jo's slightly plump mother opened the door and squealed a little, "Joanne!" She was waving her hands in the air, "I was wondering when you would get here." She ushered her in after several tight squeezes. "I have been waiting all day." She dragged her into the next room where about a dozen people sat waiting to great her.

"Oh, my God." She laughed, "Just a few phone calls?" She hugged her friends and replayed all her lines to catch up with each person. "Yeah, they're great." She smiled widely, "I have the perfect job." She was kicking her self, "Everything's been a breeze." One of her friends brought up a clip from the web page, "Yeah, we do have our tantrums, but we're good over all." She covered.

An arm snaked around her waist, "Hey baby, I was wondering when I'd get to see you." Lips were firmly planted on her neck and she couldn't move for the stun of the feeling. Regaining her senses she firmly planted a hand on his cheek.

"Don't touch me." The room was quiet.

"Joanne." He warned her, "don't make a scene."

"What movie did you get that from?" She scoffed, "Why are you here?"

"I figured you would have called me, to let me know you were coming in, but I heard it from someone else."

"If I had wanted to see you again, I would have called you personally." He pulled her away from the quiet group and into the kitchen.

"Why all the hostility, Jo? We were really close once."

"Once, like the first day and then after that." She smirked, "Just leave."

"I think I have a right to be here."

"No you don't," she laughed. "Do you think we're still together?"

"We never broke up."

"I left the state."

"For school."

"I had an apartment before an application."

"If it weren't for that school being so good, we'd be going to CU together."

"No... if it weren't for your macho, beat 'em up attitude, we'd still be warring."

"What are you talking about?"

"You hit me, then you hit my brother."

"I was drunk, I didn't know what I was doing."

"When weren't you drunk?"

He jerked his hand up, fisted.

"See, right there. Go on hit me. You know how." She stiffened up and prepared herself.

"Fine." He sternly walked past her and out the door.

"I didn't know he hit you." Her mother came up behind her and placed her arms on her shoulders.

She managed to find some joy in the rest of the night within the group of her closest high school friends.

"So... do you think we'll see Jo at all while we're here?" Mike asked Derek, flipping through a Reader's Digest in a room they had claimed for the crew.

"Probably not." he stretched out on his doubled up mattresses which were too short for his long frame. "What happened with her and Brian?"

"I dunno."

"Ha ha." He mocked, "You do too."

"I do."

"Well?"

"Ask her yourself."

The band had swiftly taken control of the upper section of the small house, which included the kitchenette and dining area. Unwilling to brave the cold of the swiftly ending night, Brian and Rivers sat bask in the wood stove's radiating heat. They listened for any signs of disaster from Karl, Phil and Mikey, who were outside with a bike and a camera. Rivers stirred through the papers in his backpack while Brian shifted between leaning on one counter to leaning on the other side then sitting on top.

"What did I do?"

"Beats me."

"I thought she enjoyed it."

"She probably did." he smirked, transferring some hand written lyrics into his computer.

"Come on." Brian angrily slammed his fists on the table. "You get thrown around a lot. Help me out here."

"Women, they're a mystery," he smiled, but kept his eyes on the screen.

"You two have you're little secrets, why can't I get in on this one?" he pleaded.

"I don't know anything but what you've said."

"Some times I just want to snap those glasses in half." he eyed the pair that sat next to the computer.

"Oh, no... that would be terrible." He monotonously stated. "It's not like I don't know the glasses replacement system this time."

"You're a piece of work."

"Everyone's gotta have goals."

"AHHH!" he kicked the soccer ball into the rock fire place and paced through the kitchenette.

"Easy there, big guy," he again, monotonously mocked.

"Ouch, ow, ooh. Easy does it."

Mikey, with the assistance of Karl and Phil, made a bloody entrance into the upstairs living quarters.

"What did you do?" Brian waved a hand in his direction.

"Well, we took the bike up to the top of the hill, and..."

"Never mind."

"Ah... Mikey! The games in two days." Rivers was flustered, "We need all of us."

"Oh, don't worry. I can still pla-ha-hay." He huffed as he tried to sit down.

"Ew." Rivers curled his lips and wrinkled his nose at the oozing blood that was coming through the tears in Mikey's knees.

"Oh God!" Sheeny exclaimed, walking into the room from taking a shower, "Mikey! What did you do?" She instantly switched into mother mode and rushed for the first aid kit on the bus.

"Who's up for a pilgrimage?" Rivers closed his lap top and grabbed his sweatshirt.

"Where are you going?" Brian asked.

"There's a foosball table in the gym, right?" He started to lace up his shoes. "I think that's a good way to start the stay."

"But it's dark outside," Sheeny objected, returning with a small bag, "What if there are bears around here?"

"This isn't Canada. It's not like they're grizzlies."

"What about Mountain Lions?" she stole his other shoe and tapped it against her hand.

"There aren't any lions in Colorado," he laughed nervously.

"This is the mountains, and I'm sure there are cats out here."

"We didn't see any." Karl shrugged.

"See? And who wouldn't eat Phil?" Rivers waved a hand in his direction.

"Hey!" Phil warned. "Watch your self home boy. I could snap you in half."

"If you could only pin me."

"Rivs, just stay in." She jerked his shoe away as he reached for it.

"Yeah, what's one night?" Brian showed himself to be ready to catch the shoe. They started tossing it around in a circle, with Rivers jumping around in the middle frantically.

"Fine." He crossed his arms and sat down. "I guess you need at least two anyways." he pouted.

"Sheeny, you're a girl."

"Thanks for noticing Brian." She bit into an apple and leaned against the counter.

He rolled his eyes, "What did I do wrong with Jo?"

"What didn't you do?"

"Eh?"

"Maybe it's not what you did, maybe it's what you didn't do."

"And what was that?" He went on the defensive.

"I don't know. What was different with this relationship than the last ones."

"He got laid!" Mikey laughed, applying bandages.

"Shut up," Brian glared at him, "I guess it's just she was with me all the time, not back home."

"What else? What did you talk about?"

"Umm... well..." He cocked his head to the side, "I guess we didn't really."

"That's why," Rivers reopened his laptop.

"No wonder you're single," Brian snidely glared.

"I'm single 'cause I'm a bitch," Rivers calmly stated.

"Both are correct assessments." Sheeny rolled her eyes, "I'm surprised she even slept with you, if you didn't talk first."

"So all I have to do is talk to her and everything will be good?"

"No guarantees."

"So what would I have to do to get someone?" Mikey asked.

"Sex change." Rivers shrugged.

"So what's Rivers like?" Brittany asked licking her lips and leaning in on her elbows.

"You're married."

"So is Brad Pitt, but a girl can dream."

"He's an ass."

"What does he talk about?"

"He mainly just repeats what you already know. He twists things around. Or he's really quiet." Jo shrugged.

"Is he mean?"

"He's hot tempered."

"Is he cute when he's mad?"

"I don't know," Jo blushed.

"Have you seen him naked."

"What?" She exclaimed more than asked.

"Okay, I'll say a name and you need only to blink if you seen them naked."

"I'm not doing this."

"Rivers? Phil? Brian? Karl?"

"You're forgetting Mikey."

"Have you seen Mikey naked?" she was getting excited.

"Sometimes it's hard to tell that you're five years older than me."

"I've been sitting at home with a baby for sixteen hours a day." She puffed out her lip, "Give me something."

"I've seen two." She rolled her eyes and started to clear the plates off of the table. "And a half."

"Who?" She jumped up and started to help the cleaning.

"Mikey, Brian, and Rivers."

"Oh you bitch!" She squealed. "Who was the half?"

"Rivs."

"Awe, you called him 'Rivs.' You've seen all of Brian? How is he?"

"Excuse me?"

"You know, is he in proportion."

"Porn, honey. Get some porn."

"You slept with him." She was smiling

"I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

"When you think of him you think of porn. You slept with a rock star."

"I can't believe we're having this conversation."

"Are you two an item?"

"Brit." She avoided the brown eyes of her excited sister, "No. We're not an 'item'."

"Ha, my sister slept with a rock star." She was laughing and smiling broadly, "Was he good?"

"This is over."

"That bad?"

"It wasn't him."

"It never is, is it?" she rolled her eyes.

"I don't know what happened. I just... fell into old patterns."

"So, do I get to meet Mike?"

"Mikey? I don't think you want too." She smiled at the subject change.

"No. Mike, your little buddy."

"Yeah, I'll take you up and let you meet the crew."

"How gracious of you."

"Don't count on Rivers, or Brian, but I might be able to get Karl, or Phil, and Mikey is always up for it. Plus there's the soccer game in two days."

"Soccer?"

"Band vs. Crew."

 **And sadly, this is all that Nopinion had... They never finished this awesome fanfic :(**


End file.
